


We Can Be Afraid Together

by lemoncakelady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncakelady/pseuds/lemoncakelady
Summary: A lot of things come easily to Robb Stark, from looking after his little siblings, to excelling in school, to throwing touchdown passes. But during his senior year of high school, Robb unfolds a part of himself that's hard to grapple with; his feelings for Theon Greyjoy are complicated. Or maybe falling for his best friend is the easiest thing he's ever done.





	1. Arbor Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tyrells host a party on the south side of the city, and Theon Greyjoy is either really bad or really good at spin the bottle.

Robb stole a glance in the rearview mirror as he turned east. Behind them, the city sprawled. The sun hung low, a red smear in the sky. Robb had a strange feeling that they were running from it.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Theon said, turning in the passenger seat to face Jon, who’d been relegated to the back, on account of the former calling shotgun. “The Tyrells live on the south side of the city, and we have to drive even farther fucking north than we already live to go pick up your girlfriend, what’s her face—”

“You know her name,” said Jon, exasperated. “You’ve met her. Multiple times!”

“Yvonne,” said Theon.

“Ygritte,” Robb corrected.

“Whatever her name is, we’re wasting time and gas,” said Theon.

“Oh, like you pay for it,” Jon sneered.

“And you do?”

“Will you guys knock it off?” Robb cut in. He wished his two best friends got along better. Well, he wished his half-brother, who was really his cousin, and his live-in best friend, whose father had been in jail for the past decade, got along better.

Life was complicated for the Starks.

“I don’t mind covering gas,” Robb continued. He always drove when the three of them went out. He didn’t trust Theon’s driving, and Jon didn’t have a car. “And I don’t mind driving out of the way to pick up Ygritte. I like her.”

Theon turned toward him, but Robb couldn’t quite place the look on his face— it seemed a strange mix of concern and awe. Robb sensed a bit of scorn there, too.

“You don’t have to say that,” said Theon.

“Say what?” Robb asked, eyes flicking back to the road ahead of him.

“That you don’t mind,” said Theon. He sat back in his seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “You never mind.”

Robb forced a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said.

Theon looked over at him, meeting his eyes.

“I think you know exactly what I’m on about, Stark.”

Robb shifted his gaze ahead, but he could still feel Theon’s piercing blue-green eyes on him. He felt the bizarre urge to check his collar and make sure it was straight. No, Theon would fix it for him if it wasn’t.

“Robb Stark,” said Theon, his tone mocking. “Always the one to lend a hand. Ever ready to bravely acquiesce.”

“I like helping people,” Robb said, more defensively than he’d planned.

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes!” said Robb. “Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“It isn’t! You just—”

“Gods, Greyjoy, give it a rest,” Jon piped in.

“Well, I hope you know that people don’t like you just because you can’t turn down a favor,” Theon said, ignoring Jon.

“Of course I know that,” said Robb.

Theon’s voice was suddenly gentle.

“You can say no, Robb.”

Doubt wrestled in his chest, but Robb made himself focus on the stretch of road laid out before them, the way the yellow center stripes flashed by as his tires devoured the asphalt. How Theon crossed his legs, his converse tastefully worn, not quite white anymore. On the frays of his jeans, the shape of his legs beneath them.

“It’s this left,” Jon reminded him.

Startled, Robb shifted his foot to the break and swung into a crude turn.

Theon lolled forward, loose and laughing.

“And you say I’m a bad driver,” he teased.

Robb spared one hand of the wheel to punch him on the shoulder, not taking his eyes off the road.

Ygritte’s house was small, with siding that was supposed to be white. It always made Robb feel a bit guilty, seeing small houses. His own was enormous, by most people’s standards.

 _We’re a big family,_ Robb would always tell himself to pacify the shame he felt over his family’s wealth. _A family of nine._ Most people would say the Stark family had seven members, but Robb Stark wasn’t most people.

Though the Stark household was large, the Tyrell manse dwarfed it.

 _At least I won’t feel so rich when I’m at the party tonight_ , Robb thought to himself. Loras’s family’s lavishness would diminish his own by comparison.

“Is her blonde friend not coming?” Theon asked Jon as Ygritte trotted toward the car.

“Val?” said Jon. “No, she went over to Jarl’s tonight.”

“Pity,” said Theon.

Jon rolled his eyes.

“Thought you liked brunettes,” he said.

“Or redheads.” Theon shrugged. “But I can shake it up once in a while.”

Just then, Ygritte climbed into the back seat beside Jon.

“Hey, you lot,” she said.

Jon leaned over to give her a kiss.

“Oh, get a room,” said Theon.

Robb scoffed. He couldn’t count on his fingers how many girls he’d seen Theon kiss— or worse— directly in from of him. Robb remembered how he sometimes smiled through his kisses, how his hands would wander, deft and practiced, down to their waists or lower…

“What?” Theon asked.

“Nothing,” said Robb, flushing. “Just…you’re one to talk.”

Theon raised his hands in mock defensiveness.

“You got me there,” he said.

Robb put the car in reverse and backed out of Ygritte’s driveway, gravel crunching beneath his tires. It was a strange sound; he didn’t do much driving this far from the city.

“Anyway, what were we talking about?” Theon said.

“Types,” Robb said absently, wheeling back onto the highway.

“Oh yeah!” said Theon. “What’s yours?”

 _Soft hair, light eyes, great cheekbones. A crooked smile,_ Robb thought.

“Don’t have one,” he said.

“Of course you don’t,” said Theon.

Robb didn’t look over, but he could tell that Theon was grinning from the way he sounded.

 _Does he know?_ Robb wondered, as he so often did.

“Anyway, if you’re into blondes, I heard that new girl might be coming to the Tyrells’ tonight,” said Theon.

“What’s her name again?” Ygritte asked.

“Fuck if I know,” said Theon. “Denise Tangerine?”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” said Robb.

Theon grinned broadly and leaned closer to him. “Ooh, looks like someone’s got a little crush,” he said.

“I remembered her name, Theon,” said Robb.

“I hear she’s smokin,” Theon said.

Robb had seen her in the hall at school the week before. She had hair that was almost silver, eyes that were almost violet. She certainly was striking, he had to admit. But he didn’t have a crush on her. He hadn’t even spoken to her, now that he thought of it.

“Speaking of smokin,” Theon began.

“Gods,” Jon muttered, shaking his head.

“Guess what we’re playing tonight,” Theon continued, undeterred.

“What?” asked Robb.

“Guess.”

“I dunno, truth or dare?” said Robb.

“Spin the bottle,” said Theon. “And I’ve been practicing.”

Robb laughed.

“How the hell do you practice for spin the bottle?” he asked.

“With steady hands and persistence,” said Theon.

“And how is this smokin’?” asked Ygritte.

“Hm?” said Theon.

“You started off by saying, ‘speaking of smokin.’” She imitated Theon’s voice surprisingly well.

“I’m getting there,” said Theon. “I’ve been practicing spin the bottle, so tonight I can kiss Margaery Tyrell.”

Robb felt his stomach sink.

“Margaery. Smokin’.” Theon said slowly, as if he needed to spell it out for them.

“Gods, Theon, she’s a sophomore,” said Jon.

“So?”

“She’s fifteen,” Jon said, as if rephrasing might help.

“ _So?_   We’re seventeen.”

“Almost eighteen,” said Robb.

“Almost,” Theon shot back.

“Does Loras know you like her?” Robb asked.

Loras was on the track team with Robb, Jon, and Theon. The four of them made up the school’s best 1600 meter relay team. Though Loras was friends with all three of them, he was closest with Theon. The two of them ran mids for their individual events, while Jon’s best event was the 100 meter dash, and Robb’s was the 200.

“No, but he won’t care,” said Theon.

“I’m not sure about that,” Robb said, thinking of his own younger sisters. “They’re pretty close.”

“They are, but Loras isn’t you,” said Theon.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robb asked, knowing full-well what it was supposed to mean.

“C’mon, if I had a crush on Sansa—"

"Don't even start," said Robb.

“Gods, Robb, I don’t have a crush on her!” said Theon. “But if I did—”

“Stop it. Stop. Stop stop stop stop!”

“Robb, you’re going to get us into a crash,” Jon said as a car in the other lane blared its horn.

“No, I’m not!” Robb cried, jerking the wheel hard to the right. “Just stop it! All of you.”

“Okay, okay!” said Theon, laughing. “All I was trying to say is that while Loras and Margaery are close, he’s not as crazy protective as you are over your little sisters. And thanks for demonstrating my point, by the way, and almost getting all of us killed.”

“Anytime,” Robb exhaled. His heart was hammering in his chest. Maybe it was from the conversation, or from the near miss with oncoming traffic, or from the look Theon was giving him. Or maybe it was a bit of all three. He sighed and tried to collect himself.

The city stretched out before them on the southern horizon, a glittering mass of bridges and myriad edifices, hundreds of silver fingers stretching for sky. They raced toward it, through it, beyond it to the south edge of the city. The houses grew larger and farther apart as they drove toward the Reach, the neighborhood where the Tyrells lived.

The Tyrell mansion sat on a great hill at the end of Rose Road. It loomed with a warm sort of elegance, its bay windows and grand turrets overlooking the road below. The white siding of the manse was tinted a soft pink in the light of the setting sun, and the silver-gray shingles of the roof glistened.

Though the house itself was gorgeous, its most stunning feature was the garden. Thick, neatly-trimmed hedges lined the yard, laced with roses of a deep scarlet. Ivy wove through the cast iron archway that gated the drive, welcoming visitors to the estate. Flowers of a dozen rich colors rimmed the house and hung from baskets beneath every window. And the smell was divine.

Robb pulled the car off to park. When he stepped out, he inhaled deeply, letting himself enjoy the thousand sweet aromas that drifted through the yard.

Theon climbed out of the passenger seat, but Jon and Ygritte made no move to leave the car, talking quietly with one another in the backseat.

“You coming?” Robb asked, waiting up while Theon strode ahead.

“We’ll be a minute,” said Jon. “You guys go on.”

“Alright,” said Robb, smiling. “Just don’t do anything weird in my car.”

Jon laughed.

“You know I respect the Cardinal Rules of Robb’s Car,” he said.

Always wear a seatbelt. No messy food. No sex. Robb was pretty sure Theon had violated all three of them at some point, but he trusted Jon.

“Make good choices,” Robb said with a wink before jogging to catch up to Theon, who’d stopped to wait for him.

“What’s taking them?” Theon asked.

Robb shrugged.

“Gods, they’re gonna fuck in your backseat,” said Theon.

“They’re not,” Robb laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” said Theon.

“What if no one wants to kiss me?” Robb said suddenly.

Theon stopped in his tracks.

“Robb, you can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s just the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” said Theon. “Of course people want to kiss you. You’re the star quarterback of our school’s very successful football team, an honor student,” he made a face before continuing, “the oldest son of one of the most prominent families in the city, an all-around genuinely good person, and you’re hot as hell.”

“I’m _what_ now?”

“You’re hot,” Theon said.

Robb gawked at him.

“What, it’s true,” Theon said, shrugging. “I’d tell you if you weren’t.”

“Bullshit,” said Robb.

“I can ask people if you really won’t believe me,” said Theon.

“No, T, it’s fine,” said Robb.

“Everyone will tell me I’m right,” Theon said. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “IS ROBB START HOT?” he called into the night.

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Robb gave Theon a shove, and he stumbled sideways, cackling.

Just as they drew up to the door, Theon pulled some crumpled bills from his pocket and held them out to Robb.

“For the gas,” he said.

Robb felt a pang of guilt course through him. The Starks had taken Theon in and fed him at their own table for nearly ten years, had made him part of their family in many ways, yet he didn’t get the same influx of birthday money from relatives or share the same trust funds as the Stark children themselves. Robb’s parents gave Theon enough to get him by, but he worked as a barista in a small café in the city to earn some extra spending money. He worked hard, Robb knew, despite his best efforts to come across as lazy.

“Theon, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Theon insisted.

“I don’t want it.”

“Take the damn money, Robb.”

Robb shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away, but Theon leapt onto him. Robb attempted to wriggle free of his grasp, laughing. Theon was wrestling him into a headlock when Loras came to the door.

“What’s going on here?” the Tyell boy asked, amused.

“Nothing,” Theon said breathlessly, arms still around Robb.

“Alright then,” Loras said with a laugh. “Come on in.”

Theon let Robb go, his arm sliding down Robb’s back in a slow, soft way that made the Stark boy shiver.

The inside of the Tyrell household was just as lavish and full of color as the outside. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the high ceilings above the entryway, glittering and golden. Delicate vases sat on ornately carved and thickly polished wooden tables. Artwork depicting colorful countryside scenes adorned the walls. Myrish carpet of green and gold fabric made even the floors appear elegant. And there were flowers everywhere. Flowers in the paintings, flowers woven into tapestries draped in the halls and the rugs on the floor, actual flowers peeking from the vases.

They were far from the first to arrive, by the looks of it. A group had already formed in the lounge, talking loudly, drinks in hand. Robb scanned the crowd as Loras led him and Theon past to the kitchen. Some fellow Northerners were there— among them were Smalljon Umber, Alys Karstark, Dacey Mormont, and Daryn Hornwood. Those present from the Riverlands, the neighborhood at the heart of the city that ran along either side of the Trident, included Patrek Mallister, Alysanne Bracken, and Ellery Vance. Harold Hardyng shared a chair with Ysilla Royce and whispered something to her that appeared incredibly funny, judging by the way she threw her head back and burst into laughter. Margaery Tyrell was perched on the edge of the sofa, chattering with two of her friends, a Hightower girl and a Fossoway, if Robb remembered right.

His heart gave a lurch when he spotted Jeyne Westerling talking quietly by the hearth with one of her friends from the west side of the city. Robb had taken Jeyne to their school’s homecoming dance their sophomore year, and they had dated for a few months afterward. Star quarterback and esteemed cheerleader, they made a perfect pair, everyone seemed to think. Well, everyone except Robb himself, and Theon, who had urged Robb to “just break up with her already,” throughout the entire relationship. His own mother hadn’t seemed to take a great liking to Jeyne either, though Robb suspected she would have a hard time accepting any girl he dated. Jeyne was a nice girl, and very sweet, yet Robb often found that they had little to say to each other. Car rides together became agonizing, dinners even worse, with no radio to drown out the lingering silences. But the worst part of the whole thing was that Jeyne had never suspected anything was wrong. She’d been content just watching movies in Robb’s basement, saying nothing and holding his hand. And how she’d cried when Robb had broken up with her. He felt awful. He had cried too, but not because he was losing something important to him, but because he was hurting this girl who hadn’t done anything wrong, whom he felt he hardly knew at all.

That was two years before, but it was still awkward when they passed each other in hallways. Robb always smiled at her, and she would smile shyly back, but they never spoke.

 _Just like when we were dating,_ thought Robb.

“I need a drink,” he said.

“Atta boy,” said Theon. “I’ll make you one. I’m an excellent bartender.”

“Theon, you’re a barista, not a bartender,” said Robb.

“Are those mutually exclusive things?” Theon asked. “What do you want?”

“I dunno,” said Robb. “Something strong, but sweet?”

“I got you,” said Theon. He took a swig from a bottle of Arbor Red before getting to work.

“Hang on, aren’t other people going to be drinking that?” Robb asked, indicating the wine bottle and wondering if Theon did the same to milk jugs at home.

“No,” said Theon. “Loras dared me to clear the whole thing so we’ll have an empty bottle for spin the bottle.”

Robb laughed.

“You mean you asked Loras to dare you to clear the whole thing,” he corrected.

“So?” Theon asked. He poured some bright blue liquor into Robb’s drink. “He still dared me.”

“Just…be careful,” said Robb.

“I always am,” Theon said, taking a long pull from his bottle. He topped Robb’s drink off with an ample splash of vodka before handing it to him. “Sprite-based. Enjoy.”

Robb took a sip. It was tangy and sweet and burned a bit on the way down.

“You like?” Theon asked.

Robb nodded as he took another swallow.

Theon grinned, his teeth glowing redly from the wine.

“Robb Stark is definitely hot, but not my type,” Jon said, popping up behind Robb, who wheeled around and grinned at him.

“See?” said Theon.

Just then, Smalljon Umber stumbled into the kitchen.

“Robbie boy!” he cried. The Smalljon could outdrink anyone in their grade, yet it appeared he had quite a few in him already.

“Smalls,” said Robb, beaming as Umber clapped him on the back. An offensive lineman, he was the biggest guy on the football team, protective of Robb both on and off the field.

Daryn Hornwood ambled over to join the conversation, followed by Dacey Mormont. She was the only girl on the football team— an incredible kicker. Theon always said she had a crush on Robb, and Robb always told him it was horseshit. Theon maintained it was harder to tell than with most, because she didn’t flirt like most girls, but he claimed she was head over heels for Robb. Theon said that about a lot of girls, though, and Robb had a hard time believing that that many people could be into him. Yet Theon had been right about Jeyne Westerling. And Jeyne Poole, Sansa’s best friend, but that one was a bit obvious, Robb had to admit.

Theon wandered away from the group. Robb could tell that he often felt isolated whenever a bunch of the football guys, many of whom were Northerners, hung out. In the fall, while Robb and Jon played football, Theon swam. He didn’t talk about it much, perhaps thinking himself too cool for a sport that hardly anyone at the school paid attention to, but he was incredible. Robb knew because he went to his meets when he wasn’t at his own games or practices. He liked watching Theon race, more graceful in the water than on land. He liked watching him climb from the pool, skin glistening with little beads of water, lean and corded and quick. How he pushed his wet hair back from his eyes and sauntered over to the bench to watch the other races, as if having just blown the competition away was no big deal.

Jon laughed loudly beside him, and Robb realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to the story the Smalljon was telling.

As he worked at his drink, he scanned the room, noticing, not for the first time, how they all tended to segregate by region. Here he was with his friends from the North. Alys Karstark and Ygritte chatted while making drinks. Loras had gone over to talk to his sister, who was still with two other girls from the Reach. Patrek Mallister was sitting at the kitchen table with Theon, who’d kicked his feet up on its surface and had made a significant dent in his wine. With their families deep-seated rivalry, the two made and unlikely pair, but they always got on well.

By the time Robb finished his drink, he felt warm all over. His laugh was looser, and his head felt pleasantly light. He made his way over to the kitchen island to fix himself another drink. He tried to recreate what Theon had made him— some sprite, a dash from the blue bottle, a bit of vodka. When he thought he was done, Robb sipped his concoction and jolted backward in distaste, bumping into Theon.

“Want me to…?” Theon asked, reaching for Robb’s cup.

Robb nodded fervently, coughing.

Theon smiled.

“Only if you say it,” he said.

“You’re a wonderful bartender,” Robb said hoarsely.

“Thank you,” Theon said, his smile sweet. He sipped Robb’s drink and wrinkled his nose. “Too much vodka. Not enough Kinky.”

“Kinky?” Robb asked, watching Theon pour the contents of his cup down the drain.

“Kinky blue,” Theon explained, reaching for the blue bottle. “Best part of the drink, in my humble opinion.”

“Theon, there’s nothing humble about you,” said Jon, appearing behind Theon’s shoulder.

Robb felt a surge of indignance burn through him. Theon often came off as vain and shallow, which Robb thought might make him feel tougher, but Robb knew he was so much more than that. He hated when people reduced Theon to some cocky-but-clever-asshole. He wanted to tell them to shut up, to tell them what Theon really was, but Robb wasn’t quite sure himself what Theon was, exactly. He was smart and funny and sweet and mean and caring and in pain. He was _Theon_.

“Play nice, Jon,” was all Robb managed to say.

Jon smiled, but Theon just rolled his eyes.

Robb laughed.

“Usually it’s the other way around,” he blurted.

“What?” said Theon.

“Nothing,” Robb said quickly.

“Okay then,” said Theon. He handed Robb the cocktail and watched him take the first sip.

“Better?” Theon asked.

“Much,” said Robb.

“Good,” Theon said. “I made it a bit stronger this time. You don’t notice as much once you’ve had one in you.”

It was true. This drink tasted just as sweet as his first— and didn’t last nearly as long. After he finished, Robb found himself stumbling over to the table where Theon sat with Margaery, who was leaning close to him to listen to whatever bullshit he had to say. Robb wanted more of whatever Theon had made him, wanted Theon to stop smiling at Margaery like that, wanted to know what he wanted.

“Theon!” Robb said, grabbing Theon’s arm. He could feel the hard curves of Theon’s bicep beneath his shirt. He grazed them with his thumb. “Make me another one of those.”

Margaery giggled, and Theon’s eyes flicked up, his face straight. Robb let go of his arm suddenly, afraid he’d done something wrong.

“Sorry, I just—”

Theon’s face broke into a grin.

“You get a nice flush when you’re drunk, do you know that?” he said.

Robb felt himself blush even more.

“Doesn’t he?” Theon asked, turning to Margaery.

Margaery nodded, giggling harder.

Theon rose from the table.

“C’mon, you,” he said, taking Robb by the sleeve.

Robb finished his third mixed drink, which he suspected Theon had made weaker this time, as Theon drained the last of his wine. Loras, Margaery, Patrek, and, surprisingly, Jon, cheered him on. When he’d swallowed the last of his Arbor Red, Theon lifted the empty bottle triumphantly over his head.

“Who’s ready for spin the bottle!”

Theon’s cry was met with an incoherent cheer of assent from the crowd scattered around the lounge and kitchen.

Loras cupped his hands around his mouth.

“To the lounge! Everybody to the lounge!”

The throng of teenagers pressed themselves into the lounge. Margaery, her friends, and the groups from the Riverlands and West end of the city sandwiched themselves onto the big sofa. Harold Hardyng and Ysilla Royce shared a chair that was barely big enough for the two of them. Loras sat against another chair, in which sat Renly Baratheon, his boyfriend, who was in his first year of undergrad and would not be participating in spin the bottle. He draped his legs over Loras’s shoulders below him. The Northerners spread out onto the floor to form the group into some semblance of a misshapen circle. Robb assumed his normal spot, squished between Jon and Theon. He didn’t mind. The three had shared Robb’s bed and the backseat of his mother’s van too many times to count as children; they were more than used to close quarters. Being shoulder-to-shoulder with Jon and knee-to-knee with Theon was oddly quite comforting.

Loras, the older host, took the first spin. He landed on Theon, to the amusement of the crowd. Robb found himself wondering what was so funny. Was it just that Loras was so…gay, and Theon was so…well, he’d dated a lot of girls. _A lot_ of girls. He didn’t seem to mind giving Loras a quick peck on the lips, though. Both boys laughed when they parted. Something stirred inside Robb, something that felt like annoyance.

Theon looked over at Robb as Dacey Mormont spun and winked at him. Robb rolled his eyes. Dacey ended up having to kiss Harold Hardyng, which neither party seemed particularly thrilled about. Alys spun Ygritte. As the girls kissed, Theon made a face at Jon, who scowled at him. The Smalljon spun one of Jeyne’s friends, and Daryn Hornwood spun Jeyne herself. Robb felt multiple sets of eyes on him as the two kissed, but that was all he felt.

Ygritte spun Jon.

“Oh, isn’t that just perfect,” Theon muttered to Robb, loud enough for everyone to hear him.

Jon, to Harold’s dismay, spun Ysilla Royce. Robb spun Margaery.

Theon gave him a 'no fair' face, but Robb did his best to ignore him. The Tyrell girl smiled at him when he shuffled over. Her lips were soft, and she smelled incredible, but Robb didn’t understand what Theon was on about with her. Sure, she was very pretty, and apparently extremely smart, yet Robb didn’t want her. Not even a little.

Then came Theon’s turn. He grinned eagerly and winked at Robb, who wondered how his “practicing” would pay off.

He spun Robb. Theon gave a huff of disappointment, and Jon laughed.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Robb asked.

“It’s just that…I can kiss you whenever I want, Stark,” Theon said. “We live together.”

A ripple of laughter coursed through the room. Theon leaned over to give Robb a quick peck, and the game continued. They’d shared a bed, wrestled each other, cuddled during movies, yet Robb couldn’t recall if they had ever brushed lips before. He didn’t think so. Theon’s lips were surprisingly soft.

Other party guests began to trickle into the Tyrell household as the game progressed, either standing by to watch or going to the kitchen to make themselves drinks. The game continued rather uneventfully, until it was Jeyne Westerling’s turn. She spun Robb, and the room fell quiet, save for Theon’s chuckle, which sounded cruel in the midst of silence.

Jeyne clambered off the couch but let Robb move across the carpet toward her, her eyes cast down to the floor. When she looked up at him, she was biting her lip, and her eyes glistened.

 _Gods, please don’t let those be tears_ , Robb prayed.

He thought he might die as he bent down to kiss her, trying not to make it too sensual or too long or too quick or too cold. He didn’t want to accidentally send her any signals. He didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted it to be over.  
When he pulled away from her, she was reaching up for his face. He tried to hide the panic in his eyes, clearing his throat and scooting back to his spot.

“Gods, she fell in love with you again,” Jon whispered to him.

Theon overheard him.

“She never stopped,” he corrected under his breath.

Robb jabbed them both in the ribs, not caring who saw.

When Loras spun his own sister, he was allowed to re-spin. He ended up having to kiss Patrek Mallister, who was stiff and awkward. Jon Umber and Jon Snow’s kiss was a crowd-pleaser. Ygritte had to kiss the Fossoway girl, who seemed terrified of her. Jon spun the Hightower girl, and Robb spun Dacey, who turned beet red.

Theon shot him a _told-you-so_ look.

Dacey’s lips were rougher than Margaery’s, but Robb could see her being a good kisser, if he lingered longer.

Theon fiddled with the bottle before taking his second turn, as if the first time had been a fluke, and all he needed was a proper warm up.

He watched the bottle intently as it whirled before slowing to a stop, pointing, once again, at Robb. Everybody laughed— everybody except Theon, who stared down at the bottle in disbelief.

“The second time has to be longer, too!” Loras announced.

Theon turned to Robb, looking utterly unthrilled about his task. But he cupped Robb’s cheek in his right hand and placed his left on Robb’s shoulder, leaning into the kiss with surprising tenderness.

The pressure felt nice against Robb’s lips, and he turned his head to the side instinctively.

It was only a few heartbeats before they broke apart, but Theon’s warmth lingered on Robb’s lips afterward. He found himself savoring it.

“Alright,” Theon said curtly, getting to his feet. “I’m moving. That spot’s cursed.” He wedged himself between Patrek Mallister and Ellery Vance.

"Cursed?” said Loras, baffled. “I’d call it lucky. Is there anyone in our school who doesn’t want to kiss Robb Stark?”

“Is there anyone alive who doesn’t want to kiss Robb Stark?” said the Smalljon.

“My nephew, probably,” Renly put in.

Another wave of laughter rang through the room.

“He’s too afraid Robb will kiss him,” said Renly.

“With his fists,” Loras finished. “For kissing his baby sister.”

Robb stiffened.

“Has he?” he asked. “Kissed Sansa? Has he?”

Loras and Renly exchanged a look.

“I mean,” Loras began slowly, “I haven’t really seen them together or anything…”

“I don’t think it’s serious yet, Robb,” said Margaery.

“Yet?” said Robb. He knew that Sansa had a crush on Joffrey Baratheon and saw them talking in the halls at school, but he didn’t think anything had happened between them or would happen soon.

Robb hated Joffrey with every fiber of his being, and not just for his interest in Sansa, who was a grade below the Baratheon boy. He was a spoiled little brat who thought he owned the city because his father was the mayor. He was an annoying prick and treated everyone else as if they were miles below him, and Robb had heard rumors of his cruelty outside of school.

Jon shook him by the shoulder.

“C’mon, Robb, lighten up,” he said softly, so no one would hear.

Robb shook it off and tried to re-invest himself in spin the bottle. It really wasn’t that exciting when he wasn’t kissing anyone. And when he was kissing someone it was terrifying.

Since he’d moved spots, Theon got to his third turn more quickly than he would’ve if he’d stayed put. He drew in a deep breath, rubbed his hands together as if he were summoning whatever luck or skill that had been eluding him up until now, and gave the bottle a spin.

Everyone around the circle seemed to lean in a little closer to the center, intent upon the spinning bottle. For some reason, Robb noticed his heart thrumming in his chest as he watched it slow.

When it stopped, the room erupted into laughter.

“No way!” cried the Smalljon. “No fucking way!”

Jon tilted his head back in laughter, tears in his eyes.

All Robb could do was stare down helplessly at the wine bottle pointing at him. He was equal parts embarrassed, elated, and afraid.

“It has to be even longer this time!” Loras yelled.

The crowd roared its approval.

“Fine, fine.” Theon rose his hands in defense and, oddly, smiled.

The look he gave Robb sent chills down his spine. Those ocean eyes. That crooked smile. Theon stalked slowly across the circle on all fours, that wicked grin still plastered to his face, clearly enjoying himself as the crowd cheered him on. Robb felt frozen.

When Theon reached him, he pressed his forehead to Robb’s, lingering for a moment and gazing down at him. Robb felt his hot breath on his face and lost himself in Theon’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if they were blue or green or gray— and there was always something stirring in them, like a rising tide.

Theon grabbed a fistful of Robb’s hair and his arm with the other, rubbing his bicep lightly with his thumb and drawing him into a deep kiss. Robb reached up and took Theon’s face in his hands. He tasted like the wine he’d been drinking. Robb had always thought of himself as a white wine person, but in that moment he felt he could drink a barrel of Arbor Red and still stand straight, wanting more. He couldn’t get enough of Theon’s lips, somehow gentle, somehow wild at the same time. Of Theon’s fingers in his hair, of the sound of Theon’s breathing and that of his own throbbing heart.

Hit bit Theon’s lower lip and dragged it through his teeth as both boys drew back, laughing.

The audience went wild; Robb had forgotten that they were even there. Renly whistled, the Smalljon whooped and hollered, and a few people were clapping.

But Theon was still smiling down at him, his face inches from Robb’s own. Gods, that gleam of teeth, those wine-flushed cheeks. Robb shot up playfully to give Theon another quick peck, feeling the Greyjoy boy’s smile widen beneath his own lips.

A few people around him laughed, because of course Robb was just being silly. Of course he and Theon were both shitfaced and had no clue what they were doing.

What the hell _was_ he doing? For the first time that night, Robb let himself feel horrified. Made himself feel horrified? He didn’t know which it was, but suddenly it took him all at once— shame, doubt, fear. Was he more afraid that Theon was only pretending, or was he more afraid that Theon wasn’t pretending at all?

“I think that’ll do for the last spin of the night,” Loras declared.

“Great,” Theon said, standing. “I need another drink.”

“Hang on,” said Renly. “You boys still need to do your time.”

“Do our time?” said Theon, uncomprehending.

“Yeah,” said Renly, “your seven.”

Something tightened in Robb’s chest.

“Our seven?” he asked, though he thought he knew exactly what Renly was talking about.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Margaery explained. “You have to serve a seven after a third kiss.”

“Bullshit,” said Theon.

“Loras’s rules,” Margaery said apologetically.

Robb rounded on the Tyrell boy.

"I’m sorry, but when did you announce these?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” Loras said with a shrug. “I just thought you all knew how to play a proper game of spin the bottle.”

Theon scoffed.

“This isn’t how you normally—”

“Who votes we make Theon and Robb do seven minutes in heaven?” Renly said, cutting Theon off.

Almost everyone in the room shot a hand in the air, even those not playing the game.

“That settles it,” said Loras. “To the closet then.”

He pushed Robb in the right direction, and Theon followed, grumbling. Behind him straggled Renly, Margaery, Jon, Ygritte, The Smalljon, Daryn Hornwood, and Patrek Mallister, jeering as they made their way to the closet of choice.

“This is stupid,” said Theon. “We’re best mates, what do you think seven minutes in a closet is going to do?”

Renly whispered something to Loras that made him laugh.

“A lot can happen when you’re alone with someone,” Daryn Hornwood put in, his face tomato-red from drink.

“Well, joke’s on you,” said Theon. “We live together; all we do is spend alone time together.”

“Not true!” Jon said indignantly. “I’m usually there.”

“Oh, d’you wanna come in with us?” Theon sneered. “Be our chaperone?”

“Not if you paid me,” said Jon. “I’ve seen enough of you two going at each other tonight. I don’t want to make myself vomit.”

“I’d say you looked pretty into it, watching them,” Ygritte teased.

“Ha-ha,” Jon said dryly, though a smile snuck to his lips.

When they reached the closet, Renly stripped them of their phones while Loras ushered them in.

“Make good choices!” Jon called as he shut the door on them.

Robb sank to the floor of the closet, and Theon soon followed suit, sighing. There was enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably, though their feet touched. Loras had unscrewed the lightbulb beforehand to ensure maximum darkness, but Robb thought his eyes would adjust quickly.

“This is stupid,” Theon said weakly.

“What is?”

“Huh? I don’t know. All of it.”

“All of it?”

Robb felt more than a little hurt. Though all of it was pretty stupid, he decided. Getting wasted the night before a game. Making out with your best friend during spin the bottle. Being nervous about being locked in a closet with someone you’ve lived with for a decade.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Theon, sounding tired. “It’s just stupid how funny everyone thinks it is.”

“You think everything’s funny,” Robb said.

“You know me better than that, Stark,” said Theon.

“I do,” said Robb. “Greyjoy,” he added, smiling.

Robb couldn’t see Theon’s smile, but he could picture it, hear it in the way he laughed.

“You’re a good kisser,” Robb blurted.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Theon said nonchalantly.

“You have,” Robb agreed.

“Sorry,” said Theon.

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

Robb was unsure how to follow that, so he focused instead on fiddling his fingers, which he could now make out through the darkness.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Theon. “At kissing.”

Robb’s heart leapt to his throat. “Oh?” was all he could manage.

“Yeah,” said Theon, the white flash of his smile almost glowing. “You’re a natural. And you’ve got nice lips, which helps a lot.”

“It does? I mean, I do? No one’s ever, um…thanks, I guess. I—”

“Robb?”

Theon leaned in closer. Robb could see his eyes now, could make out the angles of his face.

“What?” Robb asked, heart hammering.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

For a moment, all Robb could do was stare at the blue shape of Theon’s face. His bright eyes hopeful, hungry. Robb wanted to dive into them.

He grabbed Theon by the collar and pulled him into a kiss. Theon leaned into him. They started sweetly, slow. Something about the way their lips locked, how they turned their heads, moved their mouths, felt so natural to Robb. It was like a longing deep within his very bones, a part of himself that had always been there, only now breaking through the surface of his skin.

Robb savored the taste of the wine on Theon’s lips.

 _For all I’ve had tonight, I feel stone cold sober,_ Robb thought, _but I could get drunk on you._

He ran his hands down Theon’s arms and up again, squeezing, brushing, feeling the smooth curves of his muscles. He shivered, melted as Theon ran his hands through his hair, sighing onto Theon’s lips. Theon tugged at his curls, first gently, then harder. He pushed Robb against the closet wall, leaning over him. Robb kissed him fiercely, hands fumbling for the buttons on Theon’s shirt. Theon stopped sucking his lower lip for a moment to look down at him. They locked eyes for a moment, then laughed, Theon leaning his forehead against Robb’s as Robb continued to undo his shirt. Theon helped Robb peel it off, tossing it across the closet.

Robb slid his hands beneath Theon’s tee, feeling the tight muscles of his core and pulling him closer by the waist. Theon moved from Robb’s lips to his cheek to his jaw, where he lingered awhile before pressing his lips to Robb’s neck. Robb felt paralyzed; a low moan escaped him, which made Theon laugh into Robb’s neck, lips buzzing against his skin.

Robb moved his hands up and down Theon’s back, gripping at his shoulders, which were supple and strong, impossibly toned. Theon threw his head back.

“Oh, Robb!” he cried in a loud, lilting falsetto.

“What are you doing?” Robb hissed.

“Giving them what they came for,” Theon whispered through his grin.

 _What the hell_ , Robb thought, shooting up to kiss Theon before his smile faded.

All sense of time was lost on him. When the doorknob ratted, Robb shot back, startled, knocking his head on the closet wall. Theon had somehow managed to compose himself by the time Loras entered, leaning back with a lazy grace and propping himself up, hands pressed to the floor behind him.

“You alright?” Theon asked, moving toward Robb as if he’d been sitting the whole time.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Robb, rubbing the back of his head. “Loras just…scared me.”

“You guys have fun in here?” Loras asked.

“Loads,” said Theon, leaping to his feet and offering Robb a hand.

Robb let Theon help him up, finding that he wanted nothing more than to keep holding Theon’s hand.

Many more people had poured into the party in the seven minutes Robb and Theon had been shut in the closet. The couch and chairs in the lounge were stuffed with teenagers sandwiched together, chatting with their less fortunate friends who stood nearby or sprawled out on the floor. The kitchen was full of people making drinks, and someone had turned the music up.

Robb watched Theon slip into the crowd, beaming at someone across the room. Robb felt a rush of loneliness sweep over him.

Suddenly, Jon was at his side.

“Where’s his shirt?” Jon asked.

“What?” said Robb.

“Theon’s shirt,” said Jon. “It was teal and had pink squids on it. Hard to miss. He’s not wearing it anymore.”

There was a smile in Jon’s eyes, a question on his face.

Robb felt himself redden.

“Oh, that,” he said, failing at nonchalance. “He must’ve taken it off sometime when we were in the closet. It was hot in there.”

“Oh, was it?” said Jon, raising his eyebrows.

Robb almost gave his cousin a shove, but he stopped himself just in time. Jon was sure to see through him if he snapped.

“It was,” Robb said coolly.

“And what did you do in there?” Jon asked.

“Talked,” said Robb.

“About what?” said Jon.

Robb knew his hesitation meant the world. It seemed years before he spoke.

“Girls,” he said finally.

“Which ones?”

“Gods, Jon, is this a fucking interrogation?”

“Might be.” Jon smiled.

“We talked about Jeyne, because she’s here, if you hadn’t noticed, and it was weird when we had to kiss,” said Robb. “And we talked about Margaery, of course, because Theon wants to get in her pants.”

“Does he?” said Jon.

“Of course he does,” said Robb, feeling annoyed, and not just because of Jon’s persistence. “You heard him go on about her in the car. And you saw his face when he didn’t spin her.”

“Yeah, I saw his face when he spun you,” said Jon.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” said Robb.

“You tell me.”

Robb ignored Jon, scanning the crowd for anyone else to talk to.

He decided to cross the room, shouldering his way into a circle of football guys who’d come late. Robb was glad they’d missed the eventful game of spin the bottle. They were talking about a player from a neighboring city’s football team who’d died in a freak injury on the field the past weekend. It was heavy stuff, and all over the news. Still, he found himself drifting away from the conversation, scanning the room from time to time…looking. For Theon? No, Robb told himself. Just looking.

Then, as if from nowhere, Theon fell in beside him. Robb wondered if they were standing closer to each other than usual. No, he decided, they always stood close. He was just now noticing it.

“Hey, Robb, there’s something you might want to see,” Theon said.

“What?” said Robb.

“It’s your sister, she’s here with ‘the prince’” said Theon, lip curling.

Joffrey. Robb bristled. They called the Baratheon boy “the prince” because of the way he strutted through the hallway at school, thinking himself better than everyone because of his family’s influence.

“Sansa’s here?” he asked.

“No, Arya, the twelve-year-old,” said Theon.

“What?!”

“Gods, Robb, you’re so oblivious sometimes,” Theon said, beckoning him to follow.

Theon lead him to the entry hall, where Margaery greeted the newcomers.

Robb saw the red of Sansa’s hair first, blazing by the light of the chandelier. Then he saw Jeyne Poole, standing next to her, giggling at whatever Margaery was saying. Then he saw Joffrey. He stood on Sansa’s other side, all golden and reedy and smirking. His hand migrated to Sansa’s waist, toying with the bit of her shirt that snuck up above her hips.

“No no no no, absolutely not,” said Robb, shoving past a drunk person who stumbled into him.

“Hey, Stark,” Joffrey said when Robb burst into the entry way.

Sansa’s face fell, and Margaery grew quiet.

“What are you doing?” Robb demanded of no one in particular.

“Joffrey drove us,” said Jeyne.

Robb glared at Sansa, whose blue eyes met his own with cold challenge.

“You need to go home,” Robb said to her. “Now.”

Joffrey whispered something to her and made as if to usher her away.

“No, I don’t,” said Sansa, ignoring Joffrey. Her voice was casual, but her eyes were ice.

“Yes, you do,” Robb said.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Sansa protested.

“Sometimes I do!” said Robb. “You’re a freshman, what are you doing here?”

“There are other freshmen here,” said Sansa.

“Who, Jeyne?”

The Poole girl reddened when Robb said her name.

“Yes, and Megga, and Alla,” said Sansa.

“You’re going home.”

“I am not.” For the first time, Sansa’s voice quavered.

“I’m calling you a cab,” said Robb, digging his phone from his pocket.

“Maybe Joff can drive us back,” Jeyne offered.

“I’m calling you a cab,” Robb repeated, more firmly this time.

Sansa stepped toward him, Joffrey’s hand sliding from her waist. Robb wanted to throttle him.

“No, you’re not,” said Sansa. “And I’m staying.”

“You aren’t staying,” said Robb, “And if you try, I’m going to call mother.”

“What are you, eight?” Sansa cried. “If you call her, she’ll find out about you too. You’re drinking the night before a game.”

“But she won’t be as upset as she will be about you, now will she?” said Robb. “What did you tell her, you were staying at Jeyne’s? And Jeyne told her parents she was staying at our place? I can’t believe the two of you!”

“Robb, you’re making a scene,” said Sansa.

“Am I? Good!”

“You’re _embarrassing_ me.” There were tears in Sansa’s eyes.

“Ooh, who wants a martini? Loras makes the best,” Margaery cut in, rallying Joffrey and a few onlookers to come with her to the kitchen.

“Outside,” Robb said to Sansa after they’d left. “Now.”

Sansa stormed out of the entryway after Robb, Jeyne following timidly. Sansa turned to slam the door behind Jeyne, then rounded on Robb.

“Why do you try to ruin everything for me?” she cried.

“I’m your big brother,” said Robb. “I have to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Sansa snapped, turning away from him.

“You’re fourteen, and I’m supposed to let you walk into a party full of drunk upperclassmen, and with that asshole?”

“You mean Joffrey?”

“Yes!”

“He’s not an asshole, Robb.”

“Yes, he is, and I wish you would see that.”

“What did he ever do to you?”

She’d backed Robb into a corner. He grappled for words for a moment before answering.

“It doesn’t matter what he’s done to me. I’ve seen him treat other people like shit,” said Robb. “And I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Oh, you don’t?” said Sansa, rolling her eyes. “Tell me, Robb, are there any boys you’d rather I dated, or would you find some stupid reasons to hate them all?”

“You shouldn’t be dating anyone, you’re only fourteen,” Robb answered.

“You and Jeyne went out at fifteen,” said Sansa.

“That was different,” said Robb.

“Different how?”

“I’m calling your cab.”

“Robb—”

Robb held up his phone.

“It’s the cab or our parents,” he said.

Sansa began to cry, and Jeyne scurried to her side. The three of them stood in silence until the cab crunched its way up the drive.

“I hate you,” Sansa spat at Robb before turning to leave.

“Text me when you make it home!” Robb called after her.

Theon was waiting for him in the entry when Robb went back inside.

“Need another drink?” Theon asked him.

“How about five?” said Robb.

Theon laughed at that and clapped him on the back. They made their way back to the lounge together, passing Joffrey, who was standing in a group of sophomore boys and talking animatedly.

“Long legs, copper hair, and the biggest tits you’ve ever seen on a freshman—”

Robb wheeled around and lunged at him. Somehow, as if he’d anticipated it, Theon caught him just in time, grabbing him by the biceps and holding him back.

Murmurs floated through the crowd. All eyes were on them— Joffrey, quavering, a row of boys behind him, looking twice as tough as the Baratheon himself, and Robb, fuming, straining against Theon’s iron grip. The Smalljon slunk beside Theon, Daryn Hornwood and Dacey Mormont just behind him. Jon strode up too, grabbing the back of Robb’s shirt to help Theon keep him back.

“Yeah, you get him, wolf boy!” someone cried from across the room.

Suddenly, Joffrey laughed, his fear melting away.

“I’d like to see him try,” he said, smirking too widely.

“So would I, Lannister,” said Theon.

The smile fell from Joffrey’s face. Some people jeered, some gasped, but the smartest of them stayed quiet.

There were rumors about Joffrey Baratheon.

“What did you say?” Joffrey said quietly.

“Are you bloody deaf?” said Theon, not missing a beat. “I said, ‘so would I, Baratheon.’ Stark could snap you clean in half before you got your fists up.”

“That’s not what you said,” said Joffrey, his face reddening.

“Oh, maybe I misremembered,” said Theon. “Would you care to tell me what you heard instead?”

Joffrey’s jaw worked furiously, and his eyes burned. The whole room waited for him to answer.

“This party’s lame,” he said finally. “C’mon, let’s go.” He beckoned to some of his friends, who followed him dutifully to the door.

When they were gone, the whole party seemed to let out its breath. People continued talking as if nothing had happened. Jon let go of Robb’s shirt, then Theon of his arms.

Robb turned to his friends.

“You should’ve let me pound his face in,” he said.

“Would’ve been hilarious,” the Smalljon put in.

“Believe me, I wanted to,” said Theon.

“Greyjoy, you were brilliant,” said Patrek Mallister.

“You went too far,” said Robb, worry knotting in his stomach. Joffrey would surely tell his mother what Theon had said, and Cersei Lannister was notorious for the strings she could pull.

“Excuse me, I’m not the one who almost— how did you say it— pounded in the face of the mayor’s son?” said Theon.

That brought a ripple of laughter through the group, and the tension defused, yet Robb couldn’t help but worry for Theon.

My special talent, he thought sourly.

Robb’s head spun as the party wore on. He had no doubt it was in part due to the liquor, but a million thoughts rushed through his head besides. He couldn’t stop thinking about Theon…his lips, his laugh…how he stood right beside him, joking with their friends as he’d always done, but now Robb was afraid that things were different. Afraid that they weren’t. And then there was Sansa, and that stupid prick she wanted to date. All Robb wanted to do was help her with homework, let her paint his nails, and give her piggyback rides around the house like he’d done when she was little. And in a few years, Arya would be in high school too. Arya who was always dirty. Arya with her scraped knees. Arya who always begged him to throw the football with her. Robb couldn’t bear the thought.

When the party died down, Loras rounded up a small group to go watch a movie in the basement. Robb thought it sounded like a good idea; a movie might relax him. He took his normal place between Jon and Theon on the couch. Ygritte sat by Jon, and Loras and Renly shared a chair. Robb could hardly pay attention to the movie. A few minutes in, he slid his arm out from where it was pinned between him and Theon and draped it around Theon’s shoulders.

Robb Stark was nothing if not brave.

Theon looked at him quizzically, but Robb just smiled. Theon leaned into him.

He remembered the first time they’d cuddled. Robb had always been an affectionate person. He was a widely acclaimed hugger, and a practiced hand-holder when crossing busy streets. For years he’d read stories to his younger siblings when they couldn’t fall asleep and settled their arguments over who got to sit on his lap during movies by letting them all pile on top of him. One day when they were fourteen, Robb, Jon, and Theon were watching some stupid action movie in their basement— Robb couldn’t remember the title. Robb had been cuddling with Jon, but he’d noticed Theon looking rather lonely. Robb had scooted over to him on the couch and put his arm around him, drawing Theon close to him. Robb remembered how he’d stiffened. Afraid he’d made Theon uncomfortable, Robb had pulled away.

"Do you want me to stop?" he’d asked.

'"No, get back here", Theon had said, reaching for him.

Robb remembered how tightly Theon had held him, how his head had rested on Robb’s chest. Robb had wondered if Theon could feel his heartbeat.

It was the same tumult of emotions that gripped him now, as he held Theon against himself and stroked his arm. It was affection. It was fear. It was longing. Longing for Theon. Longing to protect him, to make him feel loved.

Theon fell asleep with his head on Robb’s shoulder. Robb stayed up a while longer, listening to Theon’s soft, low breathing and savoring his warmth. The last thing he remembered before sleep took him was resting his head against Theon’s and wondering if anything could be more perfect.


	2. Summer Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the party, Robb's best friends are fighting, his sister is upset with him, and he can't stop thinking about what he did when he was drunk. He hopes that his football game will help to clear his mind, and it seems to-- for the first 38 minutes, at least.

Robb Stark woke up alone. And cold.

It took him a moment to remember where he was. When he did, his stomach sank. Theon had fallen asleep beside him, but he had cleared out of the Tyrells’ basement, along with everyone else who’d been watching the movie.

 _Did he wake up next to me and regret last night?_ Robb wondered. _Did he run up the stairs, ashamed, and catch a ride home with someone else?_

He remembered the heat of Theon’s lips, the feeling of his fingers in his hair.

Robb pulled one of the couch cushions closer to him and squeezed it tight.

When he garnered the courage to go upstairs, he found Theon eating alone at the kitchen table, the morning light slanting in through the window and painting a streak of gold in his hair.

“Hey,” Robb said, trying to hide the question in his voice. Part of him hoped Theon heard it anyway.

“Megga made muffins for us,” Theon said through a mouthful of his breakfast. “Saved you one.” He motioned to the plate next to his own, on which sat a plump golden pastry.

Robb felt himself relax. He slid in beside Theon and tore into his muffin. Robb was more of a bacon-and-eggs kind of breakfaster, but that morning Megga’s baking hit the spot.

“Thought I might have to wake you,” said Jon, making his way from the lounge to the kitchen.

“Did I really sleep that late?” Robb asked, forgetting the muffin in his mouth. He checked his phone, swallowing. 11:13. “Shit.”

“Yeah, you were out,” said Theon. “Was dead sure I’d wake you when I got up around 9:30.”

“You could’ve,” said Robb. “Woken me up, you know.”

“Have you seen yourself asleep?” said Theon, softening somehow. “You looked so peaceful. I would’ve felt horrible.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jon put in, pulling up a chair for himself.

Robb felt a warmth rising to his cheeks and wished he didn’t blush so easily.

“You three,” said Renly, sauntering into the kitchen, Loras at his heels, “are the last guests here.”

“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” said Robb. “That’s my fault. Is there anything we can do to help clean up?”

“Housekeeping got to it this morning,” said Loras. “Don’t worry about it.”

Robb felt a surge of guilt for the housekeeping staff who had to clean up after a bunch of drunk, rowdy teenagers. Now that he thought about it, the Tyrell manse did look pretty immaculate; it was once more bright and clean, far from the the dark, buzzing, pungent space it had been the night before. There were no traces of spills, trash, or even a single solo cup.

“And feel free to stay as long as you like,” Margaery said, drifting down the stairway into the lounge. “I will warn you, though, that our parents will be back within the hour, and unless you want to get caught in a dreadfully long, horribly boring conversation with our father…”

“Right,” said Robb. “We’ll just get our things and be on our way.” He turned to Jon. “Hang on, where’s Ygritte?”

“She caught a ride home with Alys,” said Jon.

“I hope she wasn’t counting on me,” said Robb, more embarrassed by the minute.

The trio took one last sweep around the lounge and the basement, and Theon snuck his shirt from the closet he’d left it in.

 _The closet we left it in,_ Robb thought. Yet Theon wasn’t acting any differently around him than he normally did. Robb didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

When they went out to Robb’s car, Jon beat Theon to shotgun, despite the latter calling dibs. Robb wanted no part in the argument; he just wanted it to be over.

“Can we stop for coffee at least?” Theon asked, yawning as he clambered into the backseat.

“Why didn’t you sleep later if you’re so tired?” Robb asked, wondering what it would’ve been like if they’d woken up together in the morning, alone in the Tyrell basement.

“I don’t sleep well at other people’s houses,” said Theon.

“You’ve spent the last decade sleeping at other people’s houses,” said Jon.

Theon bristled at that. Robb couldn’t see him, but it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the car.

“I don’t sleep well,” Theon said flatly.

Robb felt like he could throttle Jon. He shot his cousin a look that could kill and twisted his keys into the ignition.

The drive home was a quiet one.

Robb wondered if it was because of what Jon had said or if it was because of what he and Theon had done. He tried to shake his mind of both, but it was useless. He knew he was overthinking it, which only made it worse.

 _We’re teenagers,_ he told himself, _bone-tired and stressed as hell, all of us. For a thousand reasons and none._

He cranked up the radio to fill the silence.

As they drove north through the city, the buildings grew taller, skinner, and closer together. Shabbier too, though Robb didn’t like to think of them like that. There was something charming about the little old houses, all squished in together with their small yards and chipped paint, something chic and urbane about the bright graffiti that adorned the alleyways and tunnels.

He swung off their normal route home to stop by the café where Theon worked.

“You’re stopping for me?” Theon sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” said Robb. “’Course.”

The café was on a hip little corner just off one of the main drags downtown. "Release the Kaffiene" was emblazoned over the front door, alongside a golden spray-painted kraken with a tentacle curled around a coffee mug. Ivy marched up the faded brick that lined the outside of the store. Soft light glowed behind its big glass windows. Theon loved the store’s dimness, but it always made Robb sleepy.

“That’s the point,” Theon told him once when Robb had gone to visit him at work. “Then you’ll want more coffee.”

Robb had laughed at that.

“I thought it was for the ambience.”

“That too,” Theon had said, twirling his latte knife before topping off Robb’s drink.

Robb pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.

“Want anything?” Theon asked.

“My usual,” said Robb.

“Cold press or miel?” Theon asked. “It’s kind of between seasons.”

“Surprise me,” said Robb.

“Will do.” Theon grinned. “Jon?”

“Oh?” Jon stirred as if someone had just shaken him awake. Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting Theon to offer to pick anything up for him. “An americano would be great, actually.”

“Right,” said Theon, uncinching his seatbelt with a click. “Watch, they’re gonna ask me to pick up a shift while I’m in there.”

“You can say no, Theon,” said Robb.

Theon’s face split into a big grin as he climbed out of the car. Robb waited for him to shut the door behind him before rounding on his cousin.

“What the fuck, Jon,” he snapped.

“Excuse me?” Jon’s dark eyebrows arched in alarm.

“You really were an ass back there,” said Robb.

Jon broke from Robb’s gaze and donned his signature scowl.

“What you said to Theon,” Robb prodded, knowing that Jon had gotten his meaning but wanting to reach him in some way he hadn’t yet.

“You say that like he isn’t an ass every day!” said Jon.

“Look,” said Robb, his anger ebbing. “I try to hold him accountable for his bullshit, too, but that…that was different.”

Jon sighed.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Tell him that, then,” said Robb.

Jon turned to him, the corners of his lips pushed upward in what seemed to be a sad sort of smile.

“You know he wouldn’t want me to apologize,” he said.

“That’s fair,” said Robb. Jon’s apology would only make Theon angry, because it would mean that Jon had something to apologize for, which would mean he had succeeded in hurting Theon, which would mean that Theon could be hurt. Robb knew that Theon liked to pretend to be invincible. And Robb knew he was far from it.

“It’s fine if you guys fight or bicker or whatever the hell you do,” Robb continued. “But that was too far, okay?”

“Okay,” said Jon, stiffening again.

Jon hated being reprimanded, especially by Robb.

 _I’m always the buzzkill, aren’t I?_ Robb thought, remembering how upset he’d made Sansa when kicking her out of the Tyrell party the night before. But how could he help it? He was the oldest of five; he’d lived his whole life looking out for his siblings. Holding their hands crossing busy streets. Keeping Arya and Rickon out of the trouble they always seemed to want to get into. Trying to stop Bran from climbing too high— before the accident of course.

Family vacations could be a nightmare for his parents, trying to keep track of their wild children and two other boys besides. Robb had always helped them. Responsibility had come naturally to him from a young age. A few years back they’d gone hiking in the mountains. Arya and Rickon were always running ahead of the group, and Robb, faster than either of his parents, would follow, corralling them back when they got too far. Bran had tried to scale precarious rock faces. When Robb caught him in time, he pulled him down, but when Bran got too far, there was nothing Robb could do but stand below and pretend he could catch his brother if anything happened to him. Robb would hold onto Sansa as she stood at the edges of cliffs and waterfalls to get the perfect pictures for her Instagram.

And then there was Theon, who seemed to put himself in danger just for the hell of it, dangling his feet from steep drop-offs, taking selfies as he clung to rock walls he lacked the skill to climb, laughing when his foot slipped from its hold, sending a fall of loose rock tumbling below. It was pure torture for Robb, and his worry only seemed to egg Theon on. He delighted in watching Robb squirm.

Once, when the whole family had gone to visit an old castle, Robb, Jon, and Theon snuck off by themselves to explore. They’d found a gorgeous terrace overlooking the old city. Robb remembered the way the soft evening light had struck the stony rooftops below, the way the cobblestone streets shone. Suddenly, Theon had hoisted himself onto the ledge of the railing, his back to the sunset.

“Spot me, will you?” he’d said before raising his phone and leaning back.

Jon had cursed as he and Robb lunged for Theon’s ankles to pin his legs against the rail, so he wouldn’t fall.

The picture Theon had gotten out of the ordeal was incredible, but Robb had been livid. He’d hardly spoken to Theon the rest of the night, leaving Jon in the rare position of having to mitigate the conflict.

“Just give us more of a heads up next time, Greyjoy,” Jon had said.

Jon would always tell Robb to relax. He was never half so reckless as Theon, but he didn’t worry like Robb. He often succeeded in placating Robb’s concern, even if only just a bit or for just a little while, with his shoulder squeezes and small smiles.

Robb couldn’t stand it when Jon was mad at him. He turned to face his cousin, who was still staring sullenly out the window.

“I’ll try to call him out more often when he’s unfair to you,” he said.

“Mmmh,” said Jon.

“I will,” Robb insisted.

It was exhausting sometimes, trying to bridge the gap between Jon and Theon. His two best friends wrestled with their demons, and Robb fought his hardest to help drive them away. But who would help him with his own?

Guilt seared through him.

 _I’m being ridiculous,_ Robb thought.

Sure, sometimes he wished he were the fun one. Sometimes he felt stretched thin. Sometimes he wished someone would worry about him. But his life was stupidly perfect, he knew. He wasn’t Jon, who never knew his real parents, who had to pretend he didn’t even know who they were. He wasn’t Theon, who’d lost his mother at such a young age and his brothers not long after. Theon, whose father had been driving the car, reeling drunk, in the accident that had killed Rodrik and Maron.

Robb knew that his own problems were so small and that his friends needed him more than he needed them, yet sometimes he was so afraid of the things he felt that he worried he might bust wide open.

He rested his head against his seat and shut his eyes, remembering what Theon had told him on the drive down to the Tyrells the day before. Remembering the way those blue-green eyes seemed to see right through him, to burrow beneath his layers of shirt and skin and nestle somewhere in his chest.

Suddenly, the summer air spilled in through the open door, and Theon popped into the backseat once more.

“I got you cold press,” he said, passing Robb his drink.

“How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Robb asked, lighting up.

Theon shrugged.

“It’s kind of right between your cold press and miel seasons,” he said, “but I figured your mouth is probably dry from all the alcohol last night, and I thought cold press might be refreshing.”

“You’re brilliant,” Robb said, taking a drink and savoring the cool, almost-sweetness of his coffee.

Jon shook his head and scoffed.

“What?” Robb asked.

“Nothing,” Jon laughed.

“What?” Robb pressed further.

“It’s just…you guys are so dumb,” said Jon. “He had a 50-50 shot of getting you the better drink, and you act like it’s some miracle.”

“You just have to spoil the fun, don’t you, Snow?” said Theon.

“I thought that was my job,” said Robb, starting up the engine and shifting into drive.

“What do you mean?” Theon said. “You’re loads more fun that ‘ole Jonny, here.”

“Seatbelt,” said Robb, watching the alert flash on the screen behind the steering wheel.

“Right.” Theon strapped himself in.

As Robb pulled them out of the lot, Jon swiveled in his seat to face Theon.

“So, no americano, then?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry. Forgot,” Theon said tonelessly.

“’Course you did,” said Jon.

Robb felt Jon’s gaze flick over to him. Robb met him with a glance as if to say, “you’re one-for-one today.”

Jon seemed to understand. He sighed and sat back heavy against his seat, but Robb thought he saw the trace of a smile creep to his lips.

Robb sipped at his cold press as he steered down the ramp onto the highway. Saturday morning meant there weren’t many cars heading north out of the city. It was a strange sort of peace, on streets that could be so crowded during the week. The asphalt glittered in the sun. Robb let himself sneak above the speed limit.

The view off the crossing was brilliant that morning. Robb wished he weren’t driving so he could steal more than a glance out at the city skyline to his right, and the trident, wide below the bridge, rushing along somehow with both rage and grace.

It suddenly struck Robb that he never paid Theon for the cold press he’d picked up for him.

“Theon, how much was my coffee?” he asked, relieving one hand of the steering wheel to dig through his jeans for his wallet.

“Robb Stark, if you try to pay me right now I’m going to open this door and throw myself onto the highway,” said Theon.

Robb’s hand jumped to the lock switch. He turned back to glance at Theon, who raised his hands in defense, as if Robb were holding a gun to his chest.

“Gods, Robb,” he said. “It was just a joke.”

Robb straightened in his seat, fixing his eyes on the road ahead.

“You make jokes about funny things,” said Jon.

Theon laughed.

“Aren’t you supposed to make jokes about funny things?” he said.

“That wasn’t funny,” Robb snapped.

For a few beats that lasted a lifetime, the three of them said nothing. When Theon spoke again, his tone was cold.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Silence claimed the ride once again, save for the slurping sounds Robb’s straw made as he got to the bottom of his drink. His heart sank when he sucked up the last bit of cold press. He’d drank fast— probably because no one was talking.

When they got home, it was past noon. The Stark household loomed at the end of the street with its high gray walls and big white-rimmed windows.

As they walked up the drive front door, Robb clicked the lock on his keys twice, for good measure. When he slid them back into his pocket, his fingers brushed up against something that felt like cash. He pulled out a few crumpled bills, perplexed; Robb never kept loose cash in his pockets. Then it hit him.

“You fucker,” he said, grinning at Theon and brandishing the bills Theon must’ve slipped into his pocket the night before when Robb had refused to take his gas money.

“I was wondering when you’d notice,” Theon said with a proud little smirk. “Thought maybe you wouldn’t until after you’d done laundry and they were ruined.”

“Here,” said Robb, holding the money out to Theon. “I don’t want them.”

“Gods, Robb, give it a rest,” said Theon. “After all the work I did, I think I deserve this one.”

“Fair,” Robb sighed, folding the bills grudgingly and slipping them into his wallet. “Hey, they ask you to work?”

“Yeah, Tuesday,” said Theon.

“And you took it?” Robb asked.

“Yeah.” Theon shrugged.

“Just yesterday you lectured me about not being able to turn people down,” said Robb, grinning quizzically.

“I didn’t take it because I felt compelled to,” said Theon. “I took it because I like money.” He rubbed two fingers against his thumb.

Just then, they reached the front steps.

Grey Wind bounded to the door to greet them, nuzzling up against Robb before wheeling around and lunging at Theon, striking him in the chest with both forepaws, wagging his tail eagerly. Theon stumbled backward from the blow, eyes wide in surprise.

“Grey Wind!” Robb called sharply, shocked. Grey Wind had always liked Theon, but he was rarely this exuberant when greeting the boys after just one night out, and Robb had trained him to be quite well-mannered.

Grey Wind came bounding back to Robb at his call, licking his fingers.

Ghost slunk to Jon’s side, a white shadow. His was a quiet affection. Though they were so different, he and Grey Wind got on well.

Theon brushed off his shirt where Grey Wind’s paws had struck him.

“Someone needs a walk,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” said Robb, ruffling the fur between Grey Wind’s ears. “What’s gotten into you, boy?”

They’d come home to a quiet house. Robb’s father was out of town on a business trip, and his mother had gone with Arya to a soccer tournament just outside the city. Bran and Rickon were still in their pajamas, watching cartoons together on the couch. Sansa was sitting at the breakfast bar doing homework, but when she saw Robb enter the kitchen she gathered up her things and stormed upstairs, slamming her bedroom door audibly after she'd disappeared beyond the curve of the hallway.

Robb took his lunch out to the living room and sat by his younger brothers.

Jon laughed at the sight of them squished together on the couch.

“Didn’t you just eat breakfast not even two hours ago?” he asked Robb.

“So?” Robb said through a bite of his sandwich. “It was only a muffin.”

Robb was always hungry. He invited Theon to watch TV on the couch with him and Bran an Rickon, but Theon took his lunch to his room.

“Gotta get ready for Saturday practice,” he said.

Robb’s heart sank when he watched Theon disappear up the stairs. He probably wouldn’t be back from swim practice before Robb would have to leave for his game, which would mean they wouldn’t get to see each other until late that night. Robb didn’t know if he could wait that long to talk to him about what had happened the night before. But then again, Robb didn’t know if he could bear to talk about it at all. And if they didn’t talk about it, would it even be real? Did he want it to be? Part of him wished it would all go away— the shame, the fear, the complicatedness of it all. But how could it go away, when it was the realest thing Robb had ever known? Theon’s arms in his own. His hot breath, how he’d tasted of arbor red.

Maybe it wasn’t complicated after all, Robb decided. Maybe falling for his best friend was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

Robb tried to get some homework done after lunch, but to little avail. He couldn’t stop thinking about the party— about Theon and his stupid, sweet smile and all the scary feelings that stirred up inside him, about all the people who’d seen them kissing during spin the bottle and what they might have to say about it in school, about how much he hated that stupid twerp Joffrey Baratheon.

Robb was grateful when Meera Reed showed up to sit for Bran and Rickon, and it came time for him and Jon to leave for their game. Football would clear his mind; the sheer physicality of sports always helped him decompress. It was only a preseason game that night, and they were playing a team from outside their conference, so the stakes were low. It was the perfect time for Robb to work out some kinks, in his throwing arm and in his mindset.

Robb and Jon kept quiet on the ride down to the school, as was their ritual. Jon called it “getting in the zone,” which Robb thought was funny. Jon brooded a lot; sometimes, when he got all quiet and distanced, Robb would ask him what he was getting in the zone for, and usually it would bring him right back, with annoyance or amusement, and sometimes a bit of both.

But Robb was glad for the silence that day; he, too, liked to focus before a game. Anyone who said playing football didn’t require any brains didn’t know shit about football. Robb was in his element in on the field, calling plays, finding open spaces, figuring out the other team’s strategy, down to the individual player. He had an eye for the long game, but his intuition served him well in quick decisions, which often made the differences between first-downs and turnovers.

His coach, Jory Cassel, often told Robb he’d make a great coach himself.

“You’ve got the skills, the football brain, and the leadership too,” he’d said once. “The boys want to follow you. They adore you. And more than just knowing who’s good, you know them all, their strengths and weaknesses. And you know how and when to use them. That’s what a good coach needs.”

The smell of the locker room was affronting but strangely comforting to Robb. Musky and damp, it smelled of sweat. It smelled like teenage boys. The team joked around as they dressed for warm up, all loose laughs and slapping backs. Jon was still “getting in the zone,” but Robb floated around to different team members, helping to rile up those who needed invigoration and to loosen up those who tended toward nervousness.

After the team warm up, Robb and Jon, who was a wide receiver, practiced running routes. Robb always made sure to spend time with all of his backs and receivers, but Jon was his favorite throwing partner by far. The two of them made an incredible pair; there was this indescribable magic between them when they played together. Maybe they just knew each other too well. Jon always seemed to know where Robb wanted him to run, and Robb seemed to know where Jon was heading before he got there.

Robb had been the team’s starting quarterback since his freshman year, earning himself his nickname, the Young Wolf, because of his age and the name of his family’s firm, Wolf Law. Jon hadn’t made varsity until their sophomore year, so Robb had gone into his first season of high school football alone and afraid. It didn’t help that he'd been the only freshman, playing the most conspicuous position on the team. But he’d done exceedingly well that year and made friends quickly. Now a senior, he was the team veteran, but he was glad to have Jon by his side.

The setting of the sun stirred something within him, a certain sort of nostalgia that came to him only on nights like this, caught in that part of September that defied the bounds of any one season, dancing the border between summer and fall. Though he’d warmed up thoroughly, goosebumps crawled on his skin in the chill of the late summer dusk. Soon the leaves would begin to turn— all amber, bronze, and rust. Robb loved autumn. The crisp air and how his sweat would cool on his skin. The way his breath would frost when he would bark out plays to his line.

But it was winter he lived for. He loved the glitter of snow, the heat of cheeks flushed from the cold. Loved watching Grey Wind bound through the white world on quiet walks in the woods, between the skeleton birch with their webs of limb all crusted with snow. Playing hockey with Jon and sledding with his siblings. How Theon would curse at the bitter wind, how he’d hide his hands in the sleeves of his sweater.

Robb hadn’t even noticed the bleachers begin to fill. It was early in the season, but their team was good and always drew a decent crowd. They were both out of town, but normally his parents would be in the stands. His father loved to watch him play and always had advice for him after games. His mother liked watching him too, though he knew it made her nervous.

“I wish you’d picked something less dangerous,” she’d told him once. “Like tennis. Something that doesn’t involve you getting hit all the time.”

Robb had feigned offense at that.

“C'mon, I don’t get hit all the time.”

Robb was sure the death of a quarterback on a team from a few cities over the past weekend had done nothing to quell her fears. Robb just tried not to let himself think about it.

He spotted Bran and Rickon in the crowd with Meera Reed and her brother Jojen. He scanned the bleachers for Sansa, wondering if she’d boycotted his game in her anger. He saw no sign of her, but he caught a glimpse of Theon filing in through the gates with Patrek Mallister.

Just then, the announcer’s voice boomed on the speakers overhead, crackling into clarity. Robb felt his blood rush. The stadium lights were on now; he reveled in their electric burn, the smell of the turf. He stole a glance at the other team warming up across the field. Their jerseys were black and yellow. He heard the Smalljon and one of the Karstark brothers singling out players to trash-talk, as was their custom.

 _Whatever gets them riled up,_ Robb thought. _It’s been working so far._

Soon, Jory was calling them over for one last pep talk. After he'd finished, Robb drew his team into a huddle. There was nothing else in the world like their hands on each other’s backs, swaying, their hot breaths all mixing. They broke with a roar that was matched by the crowd.

For all his worrying, Robb was cool under pressure. Going into a game seem to trigger a switch inside him. Maybe it was all the padding, or the high of having a team to lead or a crowd cheering him on, but Robb felt bigger than himself when he walked onto the field.

The first half of the game flew by— it always did when they were doing well. They scored on their first drive, a touchdown pass Robb threw from the thirty that felt electric when Jon caught it in the end zone. Robb ran one in himself in the second quarter, along with a field goal by Dacey Mormont from a respectable 43 yards.

By the end of the third quarter, after Jon ran a touchdown in from the 16 yard line, where Robb found him open, they were up 24-0. It was shaping up to be an easy win. Robb figured Jory might bench him for the last few minutes and give one of the backups some practice.

 _A few more plays,_ he told himself, _and we’ve cinched it._

Yet when Torrhen Karstark snapped him the ball with ten minutes to go, Robb felt off. Something in the very air around him seemed wrong. No one was open, and nowhere was open to run. He was stuck.

Then, the biggest high-schooler Robb had ever seen was charging straight at him, a blur of yellow shirt. Something hit him hard in the gut, and all the air seemed to crush out of his chest at once. The last thing Robb remembered was the ground rushing up to meet him; he never even felt the sting of the turf.


	3. Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb wakes up on the football field, confused and concussed. Theon has to drive him to the hospital, and Robb struggles to grapple with his feelings in his addled state of mind.

At first they were just voices in the dark, indistinct murmurs from somewhere above him. Robb thought whoever, or _whatever_ was making them was trying to say words, but the sounds they made were all muddled. The noises rang, and their reverberations send jolts of pain coursing through his head. He tried to tell them to stop, only to find that he couldn’t form the words; a low moan escaped him instead.

The world came to him in a rush of colors. It was a few moments before Robb could place the shapes ogling over him as human faces, and a few more before their features became sharp enough to recognize.

“Can you hear me?” asked Rodrik Cassel, the athletic trainer and owner of the largest, closest face gawking over him. Robb saw his mouth moving, twisting the white whiskers around his lips, but his voice sounded as if it were coming from somewhere miles above his head.

Robb murmured his assent, the words being too much effort.

“Yes or no,” Rodrik said sternly, sounding closer now.

“Yes,” Robb managed. His voice sounded croaky and felt thick in his mouth.

Speaking seemed to shift space and sound closer to their normal states. The shapes around Robb crystallized, and he blinked the world into focus.

Rodrik’s son, Jory, the football coach, was crouched just behind him. Jon stood on Robb’s other side, his face ghost-white. Next to him, Theon knelt beside Robb, lips parted and staring down at him with wide eyes.

Rodrik lifted his hand in front of Robb’s face.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.

“Three, but they’re blurry,” said Robb.

“Can you track my finger?” Rodrik asked, moving it back and forth, up and down, and in circles.

Robb followed it with his gaze, but it made his head rush.

“Good,” said Rodrik, lowering his hand. “What’s your name?”

Robb didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. Mostly, he was confused.

“Rod, you know me,” he said, his voice still hoarse for some reason.

Rodrik’s face softened. He and Jory exchanged a glance.

“Yes,” Rodrik said, shifting his gaze back to Robb. “But can you tell me your name?”

“Robb,” said Robb, annoyed at all the pointless questions.

“Do you know where you are?” Rodrik asked.

 _Now that’s a good question,_ thought Robb. Then it came to him.

“The football field,” he said slowly. “I’m on the…” Panic swept over him. How had he fallen asleep on the football field? He felt like it he’d been out for hours. Suddenly, he became aware of the audience in the stands, and a rush of embarrassment swept over him. Had they all come to watch him sleep on the field? No, he’d been in a game. The embarrassment twisted like a knife in his gut. How could he have fallen asleep during a _game_?

“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Rodrik.

Robb tried to think back, to piece together how he’d gotten there, but his mind felt thick and slippery and slow, like he had a head full of jelly.

At first, the day came to him in pieces, and then it all flooded back, a tumult of fragments that fell into place. The drive home from the Tyrells’, the taste of his coffee as he drove across the crossing, the cartoons he’d watched with Bran and Rickon, his passes to Jon, the exhilaration of being so far ahead.

“We’d just started the fourth quarter,” said Robb. “We were up 24-0.”

Color flooded Jon’s pale face, and Jory broke into a huge grin.

“He remembers the score,” the coach said, with what seemed like a mixture of pride and amusement. “Atta boy, Stark.”

Rodrik was less impressed.

“The last _specific_ thing you remember,” he prompted.

Robb clenched his teeth, thinking.

“After the snap I felt off, like something was wrong,” he said. “Then someone, a guy from the other team, was coming at me, and he hit me, I think. I don’t remember going down.”

“You were out for a few minutes, kid,” said Jory.

“Did I get it right?” Robb asked. “I mean, am I right? Am I missing anything?”

“You got the ball off, but that asshole hit you late,” said Jon, anger rushing in, red, to his face. “Horse-collared you too, and—”

“That’s enough, Jon,” Rodrik cut in, shooting him a stern look over his shoulder. He turned back to Robb. “Do you remember what you did yesterday?” he asked. “The whole day.”

“Yeah, I got up and went to school, then to practice, got home, ate dinner with my family, except for my dad, who’s out of town,” said Robb. “Then I did some homework, and then I picked up Ygritte and drove her, Jon, and Theon to the Tyrells’ house to go hang out.”

Robb had the strange urge to tell him about spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven with Theon. How warm, how surprisingly soft Theon’s lips had been, because that was the most important part of his day yesterday, wasn’t it? Robb thought better of it, however, and had the sense to swallow his words before he spoke them, thinking he may thank himself later for his restraint.

Then it struck him that Theon was still kneeling beside him— Theon, who wasn’t on the football team and should’ve been in the bleachers.

“Theon,” said Robb, lolling his head to look up at the Greyjoy boy. “Why are you here?”

“Yeah,” said Jon, turning to look down at Theon. “Why _are_ you here?”

For once in his life, Theon Greyjoy seemed to be at a loss for words. His mouth still hung open, and his head swiveled from Robb to Jon and back to Robb again.

“He jumped the fence,” said Jory, his tone hardening. “There’s a bloody gate, but he jumped it instead. I told him to stay back, but he fought past me.”

Theon cast his eyes downward, and Rodrik snapped his fingers.

“Boys,” said the trainer. “Let’s focus. Robb, can you stand?”

“I can try,” said Robb.

Jon reached down and helped pull Robb to his feet.

Upright, he swayed, the world spinning around him. His head swam, but Jon held him steady.

“A bit off balance,” Rodrik observed. “How do you feel?”

“Shaky, weird,” said Robb. “Like I’m drunk.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment he finished.

Jory laughed.

 “Not that I’ve ever—” Robb began.

“It’s okay, kid,” said Rodrik, wrestling back a smile.

“I feel queasy, too,” said Robb. “And my head hurts like hell.”

“I’ll bet,” said Jory.

“Nothing feels broken, though?” Rodrik asked.

Robb shook his head.

“Right,” said Rodrik. “Your mother here, kid? You’ve probably got a concussion; she should take you in.”

“No,” said Jon. “She’s just outside the city at a soccer tournament with his little sister. Robb drove us here.”

“You got her number?” Rodrik asked.

“I do,” Theon put in, his voice quieter than usual.

“You drive here, Greyjoy?” Rodrik asked.

“Yeah,” said Theon. “I did.”

 “Why don’t you give Mrs. Stark a call, and maybe you can even take Robb to the hospital and meet her there, if you know how to get there,” said Rodrik.

Theon nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“C’mon,” said Jory, placing a hand on Robb’s shoulder. “Let’s get some water in you.”

As Jon and Jory guided him, stumbling, to the bench, the audience erupted into relieved applause.

 _I got sacked_ , Robb thought miserably, _don’t cheer for me._

He watched as Rodrik pulled Theon aside and spoke to him quietly. As Robb guzzled down water, Jon helped him from his pads.

Across the field, two refs appeared to be scolding Smalljon Umber, who was yelling something at them that Robb couldn’t hear.

“What’s up with Smalls?” he asked.

“He almost got into a fight with the guy who hit you,” Jon explained. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“I hope no one gets in trouble on my behalf,” Robb said, wincing as the pain in his head sharpened.

“Don’t worry about Smalls,” said Jon. “He can take care of himself.”

“Can he?” said Robb, watching as the Smalljon strained against the dual grip of Daryn Hornwood and Eddard Karstark.

Just then, Theon strode over with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Alright, alright!” he was saying. “He’s not supposed to talk on the phone, though, and I’m _not_ lying to you…I know, I know! Two seconds! Here, I’ll put you on speaker.”

He held his phone out in front of Robb and rolled his eyes.

“She just wants to hear your voice so she knows you’re not dead or in a coma or something” he said.

“Hey mom!” said Robb, leaning closer to Theon’s phone.

Theon snatched it back to his ear before Robb could hear his mother’s reply.

“ _See?_ ” said Theon. “I told you, he’s just fine…yeah…okay, I’ll see you there.” He hung up, shaking his head.

Rodrik came over to give Theon some notes for the doctor, and Jon helped Robb pull himself into sweats.

“Still shaky?” Rodrik asked when Robb stood up from the bench.

“Yeah,” said Robb.

 “Queasy?”

Robb nodded.

“Here,” Rodrik handed him a plastic bag. “You’re gonna be fine, kiddo.”

Robb stuffed the bag in his pocket and turned to Jon.

“Don’t lose the game for me,” he said, forcing a grin.

Jon clapped him on the back.

“I won’t,” Jon said, returning the smile. He turned to Theon. “Drive safe.”

“Always do,” said Theon. He slipped an arm under Robb’s to support him.

The pressure of Theon’s arm around him made Robb want to sink right into him and make Theon hold him. _No_ , Robb told himself, _I’m just dizzy._

“Ready?” Theon asked.

“Yeah,” said Robb, sensing the lag in his own reply. “Thanks.”

“Don’t,” Theon said as they began to walk off the field.

“Don’t what?” said Robb, worried that he’d done something wrong.

“Thank me,” said Theon.

“Why?” Robb asked. “You’re helping me.”

“Of course I am,” said Theon. He slid his arm slowly out from under Robb’s to open the back gate that led from the stadium to the parking lot. Robb swayed where we stood, suppressing the urge to grab ahold of Theon again, for balance, and for his warmth, too.

Then, Robb spotted Sansa rushing over from the bleachers. She flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Robb caught her but staggered backward from the force of the blow.

“Easy!” Theon cried, wheeling around.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Sansa said, her face buried in Robb’s shoulder. When she pulled back, Robb saw that her eyes were red and puffy. “I was stupid. I don’t hate you.”

“I know,” Robb said softly, smiling. “I was kinda stupid, too.”

Sansa laughed as she rubbed her eyes.

“You’re alright, though?” she asked, her voice thick.

“Yeah, I think so,” Robb said. “Theon’s taking me in to the hospital.” 

“And Theon would like to get Robb to the hospital sooner rather than later,” said Theon, making no effort to hide the irritation in his voice.

Robb gave Sansa’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you at home, okay?” he said. “Tell Bran and Rickon I said so, too.”

Sansa nodded, and Theon wrapped his arm under Robb’s once more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” he said to Sansa.

Sansa gave a brave little smile, and Theon steered Robb out the gate. Robb was glad for the excuse to wrap his arm around Theon. He liked the way the soft slope of his neck pressed against his forearm, how his shoulder muscles tensed and relaxed when he moved.

“Come on, buddy,” Theon said as they stepped off the curb and into the parking lot. “I’m not far out.”

“Buddy?” Robb sniggered.

“What?” said Theon.

“It’s just—” said Robb, feeling laughter bubble up inside him. “You never call me _buddy_.”

“Yes, I do,” said Theon. “I mean, I have.”

“I don’t know, it’s just…weird,” Robb giggled.

Theon gave him a quizzical look, and Robb wished he could find the words to tell Theon what he meant. The problem was, Robb wasn’t quite sure _he_ even knew. It didn’t help that his rippling laughter left him doubled-over, sucking for air. There was just something funny about the word, “buddy.” Something so boyish, so platonic.

Soon, Theon was laughing too, as Robb leaned on him. Robb wasn’t sure if it was the with-you or at-you kind of laughter, but he didn’t mind either way.

“Come on, you,” Theon said, pulling Robb along gently. Robb thought his smile looked different, somehow. It was softer, sweeter, than the grin he normally sported. Robb wanted to tell him so, to tell Theon how absolutely gorgeous he was, to tell him how much he wanted to kiss that strangely shy smile right off his face.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he said instead.

“You’re just cute, that’s all,” Theon said.

“ _Cute_?” Robb lost himself to another fit of laughter. He gave himself over to gravity, but he wasn’t scared; he knew that Theon would hold him up.

“Alright, bud,” Theon said, straining to pull Robb upright. “We really need to get you looked at.”

“Am I really that bad?” Robb asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You don’t seem as bad as I was afraid you’d be right away. Honestly, you just seem like you’re really fucking high,” Theon said, giving Robb a small push forward. “But there’s a lot of important stuff up there in your skull, so we’d best get you medical attention as quickly as possible.”

Robb chuckled.

“Oh gods, not again,” Theon muttered.  

Miraculously, Robb managed to compose himself this time.

“Usually I’m the responsible one, and you’re the one goofing off,” he said.

 “I can pull myself together when I need to,” Theon said, grinning.

They hobbled the rest of the way of the parking across without another setback. But when they reached Theon’s car, Robb felt his stomach churn.

“T, I don’t feel so good,” he said as Theon bent to open the passenger side door for him.

Robb felt himself retch, and the next thing he knew he was leaning against a lamppost and vomiting onto the asphalt.

“Shit!” said Theon. He shut the door and sprang to Robb’s side. “You’re alright, mate,” he said, rubbing soft circles on Robb’s back. “I got you.”

As little fun as spewing out the contents of his stomach in the high school parking lot was, Robb almost wanted to stay there longer. It didn’t matter how horrible he felt, because Theon was there with him. The only thing that mattered was Theon’s hand on him, its slow motion, his soft words.

When Robb had finished heaving up more than he thought his stomach could possibly hold, he steadied himself, wishing he had something to wipe his mouth on.

“You good?” Theon asked.

Robb nodded, coughing. When he turned and met Theon’s gaze, he felt mortified. _How could he ever want to kiss me again?_ Robb wondered.

 Theon leapt into his car and rummaged around for a bit before reemerging with a water bottle and a towel.

“Here,” he said, handing them to Robb.

“Thanks,” Robb coughed, washing his mouth with a swig of water and spraying it onto the pavement. He regarded the towel, then Theon. “Are you sure it’s fine if I…?”

“’Course,” said Theon. “It’s just a towel. I have loads, and they all belong to your family, anyway.”

After Robb had cleaned himself off to the best of his ability, they were finally on their way.

“Sorry,” Robb said as he tried to buckle himself into the passenger seat, fumbling with his seatbelt.

“For what?” Theon asked.

“Everything,” Robb said. “For making you do all this.”

“Gods, Robb, you don’t need to apologize,” said Theon.

“Sorry,” Robb said.

Theon laughed and Robb reddened, realizing his mistake.

“You can do one thing for me, though,” Theon said, turning his keys into the ignition. 

“What?” Robb asked. _Anything_ , he thought.

“Just don’t scare me like that again.”

“Was it really that bad?” asked Robb. “What happened?”

Theon sighed. “Well, first the guy hit you, and it was one of those tackles that makes the whole audience cringe, do you know what I mean?”

“Do I do that often?” Robb asked. “Make the crowd cringe?”

“You? No,” said Theon. “Anyway, you went down and your head sort of…snapped…against the ground, and there was this collective gasp from the bleachers. Everyone was just holding their breaths, waiting for you to get up…and you didn’t. The asshole who hit you just walked away from you, and I saw Jon jog back toward you to help you up, and that’s when I knew something was really wrong. He sort of just knelt beside you and tried to wake you up I think, and then he started yelling something, but I couldn’t hear him, and by that time your coach and the trainer were rushing toward you, and I was already halfway down the bleachers.”

“And you jumped the gate,” Robb laughed.

When Theon turned to meet his gaze, Robb could see that he was far less amused.

“Yeah, I jumped the bloody gate,” he said. “I was scared as shit, and I forgot where the door was. It would’ve taken too long to look for it, and I wasn’t really thinking.”

“Would’ve taken too long?” Robb echoed. “Why, what could’ve you done for me, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Theon said. “Nothing, probably. I just had to make sure you weren’t…” His voice seemed to dry up, and he let Robb finish his sentence for him.

“ _Dead_?” said Robb, incredulous. “Gods, Theon!”

“It wasn’t just me thinking it!” Theon cried. “After what happened last weekend, everyone was scared shitless.”

“Gods,” Robb repeated under his breath. No wonder everyone had been fussing over him.

“And even when I got to you— after Jory tried to tell me to go back to the bleachers— I saw that you were still breathing and stuff, but it was still awful, because you were out for so long. I was worried.” Theon said. His eyes flicked from the road to Robb and back again. “Still am.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Robb said with a yawn. “’I’m fine.”

“Hey!” Without peeling his eyes from the road, Theon jabbed a finger at Robb. “Don’t you fall asleep on me.”

“Why not?” said Robb, leaning his head against the window and letting his eyelids droop.

Theon pinched him on the arm. Hard.

“What the hell!” Robb cried, jolting forward and grabbing his bicep.

“I told you not to sleep,” said Theon. “I’ve heard of people with head injuries seeming just fine and then going to sleep and falling straight into a coma.”

“I’m not going to go comatose,” said Robb. He placed a hand on Theon’s shoulder. “If I was going to fall into a coma, I’d tell you first.”

Theon guffawed.

“You can’t know that, Robb,” he said.

“Maybe I can,” said Robb. He realized that his hand was still on Theon’s shoulder. Reluctantly, he let it drop.

“Just please please don’t sleep until the doctor says it’s okay,” Theon said.

“Fine,” Robb sighed, slumping back against his seat.

“Promise?” said Theon, shooting Robb a stern look. It seemed so out of place on his face that Robb laughed aloud.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” said Theon. “I’m going to keep you engaged in conversation until we make it to the hospital.”

“But that’s so much work,” Robb whined.

“We’re almost there,” said Theon.

Robb sensed a lie in Theon’s tone, but they made good time to the hospital anyway. After parking, Theon trotted around the car to open Robb’s door for him and help him out. Robb slung his arm around Theon’s shoulder, and together they shuffled across the parking lot and into the ER.

Once inside, Theon made Robb take a seat while he talked to the receptionist. Robb let his gaze float around the waiting room, wishing hospitals weren’t always so bright. Unable to stand the affronting light any longer, he cradled his head in his palms, massaging his eyeballs with the heels of his hands.

“No sleeping.” Theon flicked Robb on the shoulder, making him wince. He sank down in the chair beside Robb’s with a stack of papers spilling form his arms. “We have paperwork to do.”

Theon filled out Robb’s personal information and health history, asking Robb for help when he needed it, which was surprisingly infrequently. Between scribbles he kept checking his relentlessly buzzing phone.

“Who are you texting?” Robb asked with a grin, leaning into Theon to get a look at his screen.

“Your mother,” Theon said curtly.

“Oh.”

“And Sansa and Jon and Loras,” said Theon. “I also got a text from Meera, who’s waiting at home with your brothers, and one from Patrek, who I left in the bleachers.”

“You’re a popular guy,” Robb remarked.

“No, just an important one, at the moment,” said Theon. “ _You’re_ the popular one. Everyone’s asking about you.”

As they finished the forms and waited for Robb’s name to be called, Robb noticed that Theon’s left knee was tapping furiously. He felt the urge to reach out still it with his hand.

 _Whatever you’re worried about_ , he wanted to say, _it’ll be just fine._

“This is stupid,” Theon blurted.

“What is?” asked Robb.

“All this waiting,” Theon replied. “It’s an emergency room, they should be able to get you in right away.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Robb. “I’m sure if I was dying or giving birth or something they’d be able to get me in sooner. They have to prioritize.”

Just then, the entrance doors burst open and Robb’s mother strode through them. She scanned the room, visibly frantic, but her whole body seemed to soften when her gaze locked on Robb. She flew to him and drew him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank the gods,” she breathed, her fingers clutching at his curls.

Robb didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or grateful. Half the waiting room was staring at them, but his mom _did_ give the best hugs.

“Are you alright?” she asked, releasing him at last.

“Mostly, I think,” said Robb, hoping his smile would help her relax. He could count the etches of her furrowed brow, and her fingers gripped his arm hard.

“Theon,” she said, turning. “Thank you. He hasn’t been seen yet?”

“No,” Theon said, his face turning sour. “We’ve been waiting for ages. It’s ridiculous.” He spat the words and then waited, as if expecting her to validate his indignance.

“Can he walk back on his own, or will I have to help him?” Catelyn asked.

“I’ve been helping him a bit,” said Theon, “but he can probably do fine by himself. Just might need a hand for balance.”

“I am actually still here,” Robb pointed out.

His mother gave his arm a squeeze, but she held Theon’s gaze as he gave her the blow-by-blow. They had all seated themselves by the time the nurse came into the waiting room and called Robb’s name.

Catelyn rose, pulling Robb gently by the arm, and Theon shot from his seat, quick and rigid. He regarded Catelyn and then the floor and then Catelyn again before his arms fell uselessly to his sides. He sat slowly back in his seat and cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said.

The nurse led Robb and his mother back to Dr. Luwin’s office. Dr. Luwin was an old friend of the Stark family. He asked Robb how the game went before checking his vitals, peering into his orifices, and bombarding him with half-a-hundred other questions.

Robb answered most of them without much difficulty, but he often found his gaze wandering, lingering on the colorful strip of wallpaper that lined the room or the array of shiny tools laid out on Dr. Luwin’s desk or his mother’s fiddling fingers. He could always hear their voices, but sometimes they floated off, warm and dreamlike, and they would have to ask him a question twice, and he’d feel embarrassed. It took effort to listen. Why did they always expect so much of him?

Robb tried to listen as Dr. Luwin gave his mother a list of rules. He knew he’d be missing some school. Most kids his age would rejoice at that news, but Robb hated to miss out on anything. He knew that catching up on schoolwork would be harder than just doing it straight away. He’d also have to miss football for a while too. Dr. Luwin didn’t say how long. The uncertainty of it all made Robb’s gut clench.

“Will I be able to sleep?” Robb asked, remembering what Theon had told him on the drive to the hospital. He scolded himself for interrupting Doctor Luwin; he wasn’t usually so tactless. “I’m sorry, doctor,” he added quickly.

“No need to be sorry, Robb,” Dr. Luwin said, smiling. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with you going to sleep; rest is very important for you to heal. Your mother will have to wake you up several times this first night just to ensure that you can do so normally.”

Then, Dr. Luwin made Robb change into a hospital robe and took him downstairs to have some sort of scan. His mother went in with him to the room where they made him lie on a slab to be wheeled back into some metal tube that made strange humming noises. For the first time since waking up, Robb felt afraid. But the scan only lasted a couple minutes, and afterward they were allowed to go back upstairs to Dr. Luwin’s office. Dr. Luwin gave Catelyn some papers and told Robb he might feel nauseas and have headaches or even mood swings, but that none of his symptoms should worsen, and if any activity caused those symptoms to flare up, he should stop it immediately and rest.

Theon was still in the waiting room when Robb and his mother re-entered it on their way out of the hospital. He was sitting in the same waiting room chair, bent forward and resting his head in his hand, thumbing his brow.

“You’re still here,” Robb pointed out, surprised.

Theon looked up at them, and the smile came slow to his face.

“What’s the prognosis?” he asked, his voice too bright for the look in his eyes.

“He’ll need a lot of rest, but he should be just fine,” Catelyn said, squeezing Robb’s arm. “Thank you, Theon, really, for all you’ve done. I’ll take Robb home. Can you make it back alright?”

Theon nodded but didn’t rise from his chair, instead letting Robb and his mother leave the hospital together.

“I talked to your father on the way here,” Catelyn said as she led Robb through the parking lot. “He wanted to know if he should come home early.”

“But he’s on a business trip,” Robb protested. “It’s important.”

“Robb, honey,” Catelyn said, stopping to brush a fall of hair out of his eyes. “ _You’re_ important.”

Robb considered that before they continued to their car. He hoped his father didn’t have to come home on his account. Really, he just wished everyone would stop worrying about him. He felt like such an inconvenience— halting the football game, having Theon drive him to the hospital, making his mother leave Arya’s soccer tournament for him. He was supposed to be the one kid his family didn’t have to worry about at all, the one who would always help out and look after the others.

“Anyway, I’ve just updated him and told him that he can stay,” Catelyn continued. “He’s worried about you, of course, but I told him that you should be just fine, and he’ll come home on Tuesday as planned.”

She helped Robb into the passenger seat before buckling herself in and turning on the ignition.

“Do you know what?” she said, turning to Robb. “I was so worried when I heard about you, but once I thought about it as I was driving over, I knew you had to be okay. Do you know why?”

Robb just blinked at her quizzically, wondering if she actually expected him to answer.

“Theon called me,” she said simply. “He wouldn’t have been okay if you weren’t.”

Robb considered that, first warmed, then worried. Did she know what they had done? Who would have told her? His stomach churned at the thought of her knowing. He wondered, wildly, if she would kick Theon out of the house. He often suspected she never really wanted him there in the first place. She had never known Alannys Greyjoy, as his father had, and never knew that she had named Eddard Stark Theon’s guardian should anything happen to her and Balon. What mother would want some stranger’s child when she already had five of her own, plus a nephew by marriage to take care of? And Theon had always been more trouble than the Stark children, at first quiet and reclusive, then growing into a wild and rebellious youth.

 _Please please don’t take it out on him,_ Robb begged her silently, staring at her from the passenger seat.

But his mother was placid as ever as she wheeled the car from the hospital parking lot, and Robb decided his worry was unwarranted. Robb wondered if Dr. Luwin had included paranoia on his symptom list.

Theon’s car was already in the driveway when they pulled in at home. They’d stopped for gas on the way back, and Theon was a notoriously fast driver.

Grey Wind was waiting for Robb in the entry way, crouched on the floor with his head squished between his forelegs, whimpering and wagging his tail slowly. Robb stooped to pet him, finding himself still off balance, but his mother gripped him by the arm steady him.

When Robb rose, he was greeted by a flash of brown hair and a tangle of skinny arms as Arya leapt up to hug him. Robb teetered backward, laughing.

“Woah, there, let him breathe!” Jon cried, a smile pushing at the corner of his lips. Rickon trailed into the entry way just behind him.

“Everyone’s still up?” Robb asked as Arya relinquished her grip on him. It had to be close to midnight.

“Yeah, everyone except Theon. He went up to his room pretty much right away when he got back, after he filled us in. The rest of us have just been hanging out,” Jon said, “Sansa and Bran are still in living room.”

Robb felt a rush for gratefulness for Jon for watching over all their siblings while waiting for him and Catelyn to get back from the hospital. He hoped his mother felt the same.

Jon had cooked two frozen pizzas for the family, and save for a few missing pieces, they sat cold and untouched on the kitchen counter. In the living room, a deck of cards was splayed across the floor, scattered and forgotten, and the TV buzzed low.

Robb plopped himself on the couch between Sansa and Bran, and Rickon, Arya, and Jon filed in on either side of them.

Robb didn’t feel hungry, his nausea still lingering, but his mother insisted upon making him dinner. She told the family that they could stay up only as long as it took for her to heat him up some soup and crackers and for him to eat it.

“Eat slow, Robb,” Rickon whispered, splayed across the laps of Robb and Bran.

Jon filled him in on the rest of the game, which they’d won, thankfully, and Arya animatedly recounted the events of her soccer tournament. Everyone seemed so wired up, except for Robb, who felt slow in every capacity. He wanted to hear about the goals Arya scored and the games she’d won, but he struggled to concentrate, feeling his thoughts drift away or his head droop forward, almost nodding off.

When his mother brought the soup out to him, the smell of it made his stomach turn, but after a few spoonfuls, Robb realized how hungry he was. To Rickon’s disappointment, he slurped through the bowl and wolfed down his crackers at a staggering pace, commencing bedtime sooner than the youngest Stark would’ve liked.

Robb’s mother followed him to his bedroom when it was time to retire, bringing with her a small arsenal of things to occupy her throughout the night: her knitting needles and some balls of yarn, a stack of magazines, a fat novel, and her laptop. Robb wondered whether she planned on sleeping at all.

When he crawled into bed she tucked the sheets around him just like she had done so often when he was little. Robb would have been embarrassed about being babied, but with no one else around to see, he let himself enjoy the comfort of the extra care while it lasted. Tonight was different, he knew. His mother pushed his hair back from his brow and raked her fingers through his curls until he drifted to sleep.

The night passed in a fitful stupor. Robb’s mother shook him awake every few hours and made him sit up and answer questions. The process was draining, but she was gentle about it, as gentle as she could be and still rouse him, anyway. Somewhere around dawn, judging by the warmth of the light glowing through the cracks in the blinds, Robb struggled to fall back asleep after bouts of being woken, knowing that as soon as he succumbed to sleep he’d be stirred awake again. But it was almost noon by the time Robb blinked his heavy eyelids apart, this time having woken to the smell of fresh breakfast. His mother carried a steaming tray to his bed, piled high with golden pancakes, glossy syrup, and some peanut butter on the side for Robb to spread to his desire, a habit he was endlessly chided for by Jon and Theon both. Sansa said it was “repulsive,” but Arya had tried it one day, and she’d never gone back to eating pancakes the normal way again, finding that she, too, had a taste for the combination.

Robb stretched his arms, smiling as his mother brought his breakfast to him.

“Mom, you didn’t have to,” he said, his voice raspy, the way it always got right away in the morning.

“I wanted to,” Catelyn said, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“I could’ve gone downstairs to eat with the family,” Robb said, already smudging peanut butter across a fluffy pancake, reveling in the way it melted just a bit atop the cake’s hot surface.

“I thought the quiet might be good for you,” Catelyn said, picking up her yarn to knit while he ate. Tiredness was not apparent in the way she spoke or the way she moved, her hands still deft and nimble with her knitting needles, but Robb noticed a darkened softness beneath her eyes, and the lines of her face seemed harder, but from lack of sleep or from worry, he didn’t know.

Robb felt like he could fall right back to sleep by the time he’d gorged himself on breakfast and washed it all down with a tall glass of milk. He leaned back against his headboard and rested his eyes, listening to the soft clicking sounds of his mother’s knitting.

There wasn’t much Robb was allowed to do _besides_ rest, anyway. His mother instructed him to not watch television, listen to music, or spend much time on his phone or computer. The day passed in a haze, his siblings taking turns sitting with him in his room, as he was on a strict 24-hour post-injury watch. Jon sat on Robb’s bed with him, letting him peek at his phone occasionally and doing an excellent job of monitoring the conversation, sensing when Robb was bored and needed stimulation but easing up when Robb grew tired. On her shifts, Sansa seemed subdued. Not angry, as she had been the day before, but subdued in a way that Robb couldn’t quite place. Maybe he could’ve pegged it if his mind were clearer, but Robb didn’t want to risk setting her off by pestering her about it, so he just let himself enjoy her quiet company.

Theon was unusually quiet on his visits too, and surprisingly more strict about Robb’s usage of electronics than Jon, flicking Robb on the arm whenever he reached for his phone, even when Robb was dead sure his back was turned.

“You really think flicking me that hard is going to cause _less_ damage to me than answering one simple text?” Robb asked him, rubbing his bicep where Theon had just struck it especially forcefully.

“Dr. Luwin told you to stay off your phone,” Theon said, eyes never leaving the page in front of him. “Never said anything about flicking.”

Robb liked watching Theon scribble away at his homework, watching his eyes narrow and nose scrunch in confusion now and then, watching the idea pass over his eyes when it inevitably came, his face relaxing and his thin fingers resuming their effortless scrawl.

Robb was unable to stop himself from edging closer to Theon as the minutes ticked by. All he wanted was for some part of them to be touching, their shoulders, calves even. When Robb leaned up against him ever so slightly, Theon didn’t look over, didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned back, and the pressure he exerted, as small as it was, was enough to make Robb’s spirits soar.

It certainly didn’t seem to be a big deal to Theon, who held his focus on his homework. Physical contact was nothing new for them, it was natural, yet Robb felt that it was different now— maybe it was because of the cloudy space behind his skull or because of what had happened between them at the Tyrell’s, but he wished Theon would acknowledge the difference, or in the very least show some sign that he was aware of it.

Robb craned his neck to get a look at Theon’s homework, resting his chin on Theon’s shoulder and putting more of his weight against him. He watched the smirk creep up Theon’s cheek, marveling at the way it changed his face, how it shifted the creases around his eyes.

 _I want to see that grin at every possible angle_ , Robb thought, _at every time of day and every place I ever go._

Yet he kept a careful guard on his tongue, not allowing the emotions that swelled in his chest to rush up any further than his throat. He didn’t trust himself, in his addled state, to talk about such things, and didn’t know if he would trust himself to ever. Fear sank, like a pit in his stomach, anchoring him down— the fear that he might fuck it all up, and the fear that he might not, that what he felt was real.

At the end of the day, Catelyn acquiesced to her children’s pleas to watch a movie together, so they all piled themselves on Robb’s bed, squished together atop the covers. Robb was happy to finally be able to do something, but he was so tired that he ended up drifting off halfway through the movie, and when he woke next it was to his mother shaking him gently by the shoulders. He was still on top of the covers, but the room was dark and quiet, his siblings gone. She only woke him one that once, and in the morning, when Robb woke of his own volition, she was slumped against the back of the chair by his bedside, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

Robb laid still in bed for as long as he could so as not to disturb her, but when he could wait no longer and got up to relieve himself, she woke with a start.

“Morning, mom,” Robb said, smiling down at her.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she replied blinking the grogginess from her eyes and leaning back against the chair.

After the Stark siblings, Jon, and Theon all departed for school, Robb was afforded his first bit of privacy since becoming concussed. He sat in his bed as his mother made phone calls downstairs, wondering how he should spend it, as he was still to refrain from doing anything that was strenuous or required any concentration at all, really.

A strange sense of loneliness overcame him. At first, he tried to dismiss it as boredom, but when he looked over at the empty space beside him, the space against the headboard where Theon had been sitting just a day before, and felt a pang in his core, he knew that it was something more.

Robb slipped a hand beneath the sheets. What else was he supposed to do?

He was on a mission, to undiscover something about himself, to prove himself wrong. He could try watching straight porn again, but he knew how that would end up, to whom his eyes would be drawn. It made sense to watch the man, though, didn’t it? He’d often told himself that maybe it was some educational instinct, that of course you’d be attracted to the role you’d perform in the whole affair. Knowing better, this time he just tried picturing girls. Margaery Tyrell was his first pick, since Theon had seemed so eager about her. Robb decided that was unhealthy and tried to latch onto someone else instead, but every girl he tried to imagine— Dacey Mormont, the new girl, Daenerys, Jeyne Westerling even— seemed amorphous and awkward, and his mind kept drifting back to Theon, with his quick laugh and his hard arms and his sweet lips.

By the time he came, Robb felt ashamed. And tired. Tired of playing this game with himself over and over. Tired of his heavy limbs that sank against the mattress. He felt that his bed sheets could swallow him, and for a moment he wished they would. He was tired of rationalizing and justifying all his thoughts and feelings— he didn’t have the energy or the concentration for that now.

He’d known who he was, all along, even before he’d had words for it. From the minute he’d stepped onto the field with all the other young boys in his first season of football, lifetimes ago, he knew that he was different, that there was some dreadful, intangible thing that set him apart and would incriminate him if anyone else knew.

And perhaps that’s why he’d worked so hard, to compensate for that one gaping and irrevocable flaw of his. He’d hoped that if he could be perfect in every other aspect, if he could fill his life with noise, that maybe, just maybe, it would go away, and no one would ever need to know about it.

But the truth was clawing its way out of him, eating him up from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. For a moment, he feared his whole world would collapse. He thought of his parents’ inevitable disdain, of how his siblings would surely stop looking up to him if they knew. He thought of the looks he would get in the hallways at school, the whispers that would follow him wherever he went. He could picture the looks of disgust on his teammates who had trusted him, could almost hear them snap, _we’ve been sharing a locker rooms for years, perv!_ And he couldn’t bear the thought of Jon or Theon growing distant from him. He would die.

Robb was hugging his knees to his chest atop his bed when his mother walked in the room. From one glance, she seemed to know something was wrong. She drew her chair beside his bed but waited for him to speak.

“Mom?” he said, eyes filling.

“What, honey?”

“I don’t like girls,” Robb said, feeling smaller than himself, feeling younger. The hot tears spilled onto his cheeks. “I like _Theon._ ”

He’d hardly gotten the last word out before he began to shake with sobs, and his mother drew him tightly against her, stroking his hair.

“Shhh,” she said, as he sobbed into her shoulder. “I know, I know.”

When he registered her words, Robb drew back in alarm.

“What?” he said, voice thick. “You _know_?”

His mother sighed, and, strangely, smiled. “Robbie, I’m your _mother,_ ” she said. “Do you think I don’t know you at all?”

For a moment, Robb was too shocked to speak. It seemed crazy that she could’ve known, that she wouldn’t have cared.

“You knew that I was…that I’m,” he stammered.

“You can say it,” Catelyn said gently, squeezing his shoulder.

“That I’m gay,” Robb said. Once, he had thought that saying the word would kill him, but after saying it aloud, Robb realized how silly that was. “Or did you know about…about Theon?”

“I meant I knew that you’re gay,” Catelyn said. “But I had my suspicions about Theon.”

“Do you think he…?” Robb trailed off, unsure how to finish.

His mother sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know him half as well as I know you,” she admitted. “But I know that he loves you, Robb. I don’t know in what way, but I know that he does.”

Robb’s gaze fell away from hers.

“Robbie, you know that _I_ love you,” she continued. “No matter what, okay? Even if there was something wrong with you, which there isn’t at all.” She reached out to touch his cheek. “It’s who you are, and who you are is absolutely perfect.”

She leaned forward and pulled him into an embrace, and for awhile the tears ran warm and silent down his cheeks. When they finally broke apart, Robb felt panic rise within him.

 “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he asked.

“Of course not, honey,” Catelyn said. “Not until you’re ready.”

“Not even dad?” Robb asked.

“Not ever your father,” Catelyn said solemnly.

“What if he doesn’t….” Robb felt himself choke on the words. “What if he’s upset?”

“Then I will leave him.”

“ _What_?!” Robb cried.

“It’s not going to come to that,” Catelyn assured him. “Your father loves you very much, just like I do, and will be proud of you no matter what. But, if he didn’t accept you— which _won’t_ happen, do you hear me?”

Robb nodded as her grip tightened on his arm.

“If he didn’t accept you, or any of you kids for that matter,” Catelyn continued, “I would pack up my things and take all of you with me.”

She took him in her arms again and he cried and cried and cried until he felt drained and all dried up. Then, exhausted, he fell back against his pillows, and she stroked his hair until sleep took him once more.

 


	4. Blue Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb is still recovering from his concussion and the shock of his confession when Jon and Theon arrive home from school with exciting news.

Robb had been curled up on the couch next to his mother, the two of them draped under a pile a fleece blankets watching old movies together, when the crunch of tires in the driveway signaled his siblings’ arrival home from school.

His mother rose from the couch, planted a kiss atop his head, and drifted to the kitchen to busy herself.

The front door burst open, and Jon and Theon stumbled through it, judging by their heavy footsteps and their chorus of laughter. Robb scooted to the end of the couch, too exhausted to rise, and craned his neck for a good view into the entry way.

Jon and Theon carried Sansa between them, squealing, atop their shoulders. All three of them were red from laughter.

“What in seven hells…?” Robb trailed off as they spilled into the living room together.

“This one,” Jon huffed as he and Theon stooped to set Sansa down, “is royalty.” He bent at the waist in a mock bow.

Theon sunk to his knees and arched his back to the floor in utter reverence.

“All hail the queen!” he cried.

Sansa blushed, grinning broadly.

“What happened?” Robb asked, head swiveling side to side as he scanned the flushed faces of this new, odd trio. A strange discomfort crawled over him then; it was weird being the only person not in the know, the one left out.

Jon and Theon shared a glance that, for once, lacked enmity. Instead, they were _grinning_ at each other. Robb could hardly believe his eyes. What could’ve happened on one day of school without him that brought them together so quickly? Robb wondered if he was undergoing some sort of concussion-induced hallucination.

Finally, Theon broke Jon’s gaze, stealing a sidelong glance into the kitchen, where Catelyn was clattering pans. Deeming it safe enough to speak, he leaned closer to Robb, voice lowered.

“She punched Joffrey Baratheon,” he said in what seemed to be a mix of amusement and awe.

“What?” Robb cried, unsure whether to be elated or horrified.

However his reaction came across, it elicited a fit of laughter from the other three. Sansa looked giddy, as if she was still on some high from this unexpected outburst of aggression. Jon had tears in his eyes, leaning for support against Theon, who was sucking for air.

“How? _Why_?” Robb managed to splutter.

“Why not?” said Sansa.

Robb laughed and pulled his sister into a bear hug.

“C’mon,” Theon said when they broke apart, “let’s go talk about this somewhere a little more private.”

Robb followed Jon and Theon up the stairs as they led him to his own bedroom, Sansa trailing behind. Robb’s room had always been the hub for his, Jon, and Theon’s hangouts, a buffer zone between the latter two, neutral ground. They would often come to his room independently, within hours or even minutes of each other, always a little proud to be the first. Today, they both went in before him, ushering Robb and Sansa in behind them.

It was unnerving, at first, to come back to the room in which, mere hours before, his mother had held him as he cried, in which he'd spoken his truth aloud. But nobody else seemed to feel the sudden weight that forced the air from Robb’s lungs and stopped him in the doorway— or if they did, they didn’t care. Jon and Theon plopped onto the floor, insisting that Sansa sit on the bed so that she was raised above them as she told her tale. She draped her legs over the footboard, looking for all the world like a queen on her throne.

Robb settled in between Jon and Theon, finding comfort in the warmth of their bodies next to his, the excitement in their breaths. Suddenly, his room was just his room again, and it seemed silly that it could’ve ever been anything more.

As Sansa began to recount the day’s events, Jon and Theon interjected their own personal commentary, cutting her off excitedly from time to time. It had happened right after school, just minutes after the final bell had rung, when students still pooled in the locker bay, the halls teeming with backpacks and letter jackets and teens chattering away about their weekends.

Jon had been standing in a group of football guys, and Theon had been right across the hall, “not ten feet from where it happened”, he claimed, with Patrek Mallister and Ben Tallhart.

“Everyone was there,” said Jon. “The team, Joffrey’s friends, the Tyrells— even the new girl and her friends!”

 _Everyone but me_ , thought Robb bitterly.

“Sansa just made a beeline for him,” Theon said. “Dumb prick had no idea what was coming to him.”

“Jeyne stayed back with our friends. She didn’t know what I was going to do,” said Sansa. “I don’t think _I_ knew what I was going to do.”

“ Joffrey's friends all stopped talking when she got to them,” said Jon. “And he got this stupid smile on his face.”

“Hey, Sansa,” Theon mimicked the Baratheon boy’s voice with uncanny accuracy. “And then BAM!” He mimed her punch in the air, hooking his right arm hard and teetering backward onto the floor, cackling.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face,” said Jon.

“The _sound_ he made,” Sansa put in.

“And his friends?” Robb asked. “They just let it happen?”

“Didn’t do a thing,” said Jon. “Too shocked I reckon.”

“You both came over,” said Sansa, looking at Jon and then Theon, who was still laughing on the floor.

“Good,” said Robb, feeling a surge of affection for Jon and Theon. But mingled with his gratitude, as ever, was worry. He wouldn’t be at school the rest of the week to look out for his sister, who had just dived— gloriously— headfirst into trouble. Robb was equal parts alarmed and proud. He hoped that Jon and Theon would continue to watch out for her, but Theon, too, had stirred the pot with Joffrey Baratheon, mocking him at the Tyrell party.

 _Gods help them until I’m back at school_ , thought Robb.

“We had to practically chase her from the school when she stormed off,” Jon said.

“Fucking power strutted, you mean,” said Theon, who had rocked himself upright once more.

“Couldn’t you get in trouble?” Robb asked Sansa.

“Fat chance,” she said. “I have a feeling Joffrey will want to keep this one on the DL.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Theon. “It was humiliating.”

“She punched him _hard_ ,” said Jon.

“Damn right she did," said Theon. He turned to Sansa. Where in seven hells did you learn to punch like that?"

“From Robb,” Sansa said, shrugging.

“What?” said Robb, startled. “When?”

“A few months ago, Arya asked you to show her how to throw a proper punch,” Sansa said. “I was there. I listened.”

Robb shook his head softly.

“Don’t get me wrong, Sans, I’m proud as hell,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you did it.”

“Joffrey’s an asshole,” she said simply.

“But why today?”

Sansa’s smile faltered, and her gaze fell away from Robb’s own.

“What? What is it?” he pressed.

Sansa sighed.

“I just didn’t know if I should tell you guys, and when,” she said.

“Tell us,” said Jon.

“And now,” said Theon.

Sansa smiled weakly, but then something in her eyes changed. She seemed to drink in the sight of the three older boys sitting together the floor leaning in and looking up at her expectantly, to draw strength from it somehow.

“Alright,” she said, “but this is nothing to be excited about.”

“We can be the judges of that,” said Theon.

“Trust me, Theon,” Sansa said. “You won’t like this.”

Robb could feel his heart beating in his throat.

“If Joffrey did anything to you—” he began.

“It’s not like that, Robb. Just listen,” Sansa said, cutting him off. She took a deep breath. “Saturday night, after the game— gods, that feels like a million years ago.”

Robb understood what she meant. He felt as though lifetimes had passed since waking up on the field that night, the stadium lights burning overhead like so many blinding white suns. And the night before that, at the Tyrells— Robb had lived and died that night a thousand times over.

“Anyway, I was waiting around after the game for Jon to drive me home in Robb’s car, since I’d hitched a ride down with Theon, and he'd driven Robb to the hospital,” Sansa continued. “Jon, you were still with the team, probably in the locker room, and most of the crowd had flushed out at this point. I was waiting out by the back of the bleachers, at the edge of the parking lot, when I saw someone sitting by himself under them.”

“My first guess would’ve been Theon if he didn’t have an alibi,” Jon interjected.

“I wouldn’t be alone under the bleachers,” Theon said indignantly. “I’d have company.”

Robb tried his best not to visibly bristle at that. He thought of Theon bringing someone down there to make out, as Robb suspected he’d done after many a football game. _No_ , he told himself, _Theon only meant that he’d be smoking with Patrek._ His stomach roiled when he realized that the two activities may not be mutually exclusive.

“It was that player from the other team. The one who hit Robb,” Sansa said.

The smiles fell from Jon and Theon’s faces.

“He’d been drinking, I think,” said Sansa. “I tried to ignore him, but he said something to me, called me something; I think he thought I was someone else.”

“What did he call you?” said Robb, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

Sansa blushed.

“What?” Robb demanded.

“Little bird or something stupid,” she said quickly.

Robb didn’t like the sound of that.

“Don’t tell me you went and talked to him,” he said.

“I don’t know why I did, but—”

“A drunk, aggressive giant of a high school boy alone at night under the bleachers?” Robb exclaimed.

“Gods, Robb, just let her finish,” said Jon, placing a hand on Robb’s shoulder.

Robb drew in a heavy breath and clenched his jaw.

“So, I went and talked to him,” said Sansa. “He looked older than all of you, too old to be in high school.”

“Great,” Robb said acerbically, but Jon shot him a look that shut him up.

“I think he had to miss some years of school for…for medical reasons. I don’t know. I a lot of what he said didn’t make sense,” Sansa said. “But he said that he was friends with Joffrey Baratheon and that he…” she looked nervously from Robb to Jon to Theon. “He said that Joffrey told him to target Robb. To hit him and try to hurt him.”

At first her words seemed meaningless to Robb. He had no clue what to make of them. He looked helplessly to either side of himself; Jon’s knitted brow, his parted mouth; Theon’s face, hard as stone.

“What the fuck?” Robb said, laughing to fill the awful silence that had swallowed the room.

Jon and Sansa shared a pained glance, but Theon continued to stare ahead at no one, at nothing. Robb had the strange urge to shake him.

“I wish I had punched the little shit myself,” said Jon.

“Sorry, I guess I beat you to it,” Sansa said in what seemed to be an attempt at lightness.

“I have to go,” said Theon, standing abruptly. Nobody questioned him as he turned and left the room.

“I should probably get ready for practice,” Jon said when Theon had gone, rising and ruffling Robb’s hair on his way out.

“Can I stay for a bit?” Sansa asked as Jon shut the door behind him.

“Nah, better not,” said Robb. “I’m afraid I’m far too busy.”

Sansa laughed, and Robb climbed atop his bed beside her, stretching out onto his stomach and crossing his legs behind him.

“Let’s see,” he said. “This evening I have to take my eighth nap of the day, make sure to not do anything that involves reading, loud noises, concentration, or any physical movement whatsoever. Oh, and I still have to make sure I get in a few hours of sitting on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and contemplating the vastness of the universe.”

“Long day, I take it,” said Sansa.

“Yep,” said Robb.

They sat quietly together on the bed for awhile, Sansa flicking through her phone, Robb picking at the frays of his jeans.

“I’m worried about you,” Robb said finally, cutting the hush that had fallen over them.  

Sansa pocketed her phone and turned to him.

“I’m worried about you too,” she said quietly.

As he looked up at those bright blue eyes, eyes so much like his own, Robb wondered, not for the first time, if Sansa was the sibling who was most similar to him. Arya had his quick laugh and the habit of chewing her lip, and Robb’s parents often told him that he and Bran were very alike as boys, but Sansa seemed to think like him in ways that the others didn’t. Maybe it was just their proximity in age that made it seem so, but Robb felt that it had to be something more. Sansa was one of the only people he knew who could come close to rivaling him in chess, along with Bran, who only took interest in the game after the accident, when he was forced to give up so many others. And like Robb, Sansa had a way with people, an eagerness to please. There was something intangible about her— the fire in her hair, the ice in her eyes, or maybe just her strategic mind— that reminded Robb of himself in a way that seemed strangely and profoundly intimate.

“I’m proud of you, though, for giving Joffrey a piece of what he deserves,” said Robb. “And for uniting Jon and Theon. How did you manage it? I’ve been trying to do just that for nearly ten years now.”

Sansa gave him an odd smile. 

“How could you possibly expect to bring them together,” she said, “when you’re the main force that divides them?”

“What now?” said Robb.

“Gods, Robb,” Sansa sighed, “you’re so oblivious sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Robb asked, sitting up. “How do I divide Jon and Theon?”

“Ever since Theon came to live with us, the two of them have been constantly vying for your affection,” said Sansa.

“That’s stupid,” said Robb, not wanting to believe it. “I love them both.”

“That may be true, but they can’t both be your best friend,” Sansa said.

“Bullshit,” said Robb. “They’re both my bests friends but in very distinct ways. Jon’s like a brother to me. And Theon…” Something caught in his throat— something he had to swallow down before finishing. “…he’s different.”

Sansa stared at him without comprehension, and Robb thought about telling her right then and there. Sansa, of all people, would understand him. She had to. But the risk was too great, and he stopped his confession before it began. Why ruin something so recently repaired?

The evening rushed by as Robb tried to pick apart the mess his life had become, the mess even this one day had been. Thinking about it all only invigorated the ache that claimed his brain. He worried about Sansa and Theon at school without him and the trouble they could get into with Joffrey Baratheon. He worried about all the school and practice he’d miss. He worried about Theon avoiding him. He worried about catalyzing years of animosity between his two best friends. He worried about seeing his father the next day, about coming out to him.

The only thing that gave Robb solace was his mother’s acceptance. Telling her that he was gay had felt like lifting a great weight off his shoulders, a weight that for years he had pretended didn’t exist. That was stupid, he now knew. It was so much better to recognize it, to accept it. Robb had never been very good at pretending.

His mother visited his bedroom that night before he went to sleep, to hug him tightly and tell him she loved him and ask him if he needed her to stay.

“No, mom, thanks though,” Robb said, smiling up at her. “Get some good sleep. I have Grey Wind with me.”

His dog had jumped atop his bed and stretched himself out by Robb’s feet. Catelyn stroked him on her way out of the room, turning out the lights as she went.

Robb found himself tossing and turning for what felt like hours after his mother left. The alarm clock on his bedside desk showed close to midnight when he heard his door creak open softly. He propped himself up on his elbows, recognizing the shape that stood in the hallway.

“Hey, Theon,” he murmured.

“I can’t sleep,” Theon said softly, his silhouette still teetering beneath the door frame.

“C’mere,” said Robb. He watched Theon sway on his heels before crossing the blue dark of the room to his bedside. Robb scooted to make space for him and fell back against the mattress as Theon climbed atop the covers. Neither of them said anything at first; they just stared forward in silence, inches apart, resisting the strange gravity that seemed to want to pull them toward each other.

“I snore,” Robb blurted when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“I know,” Theon said.

“It’s probably not going to help you fall asleep,” said Robb.

“It will,” said Theon.

Robb wished he could think clearly, wished he could trust himself to tell Theon how he felt. At the foot of his bed, Grey Wind whined.

 _You’re driving me crazy_ , Robb wanted to say. Instead, he let himself peek over at the profile of Theon’s face, edged in shadow, his open eyes bright against the gloom around him.

“Robb?” he whispered suddenly.

“Yeah, T?”

“Can I stay?” Theon scratched at his nose with a slender finger. “For now?”

“You can stay forever,” said Robb, the words spilling out of him before he could stop them.

The flash of Theon’s smile bit through the shadows, the white gleam of his teeth reminding Robb of their seven minutes in heaven crammed in the Tyrells’ coat closet.

A new rush of emotions gripped at his soggy thoughts then, the day’s worries all yielding to the thought of Theon breathing beside him in the dark, the desire to tell him everything, and the fear of telling him anything.

But when their fingers found each other’s, wound together beneath the sheets, a strange peace came over Robb. Sleep found him before he could summon the strength to challenge it.


	5. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb continues to open up, emotionally, and physically, as his activity restrictions begin to lift.

Robb woke to a warm pressure on his forehead, something soft brushing his brow. He blinked his world from haze to clarity. Theon’s face distilled into focus, hovering inches above his own.

“Theon,” he murmured. “What’re you doing?”

Theon reddened, turning a deeper shade of scarlet than Robb had ever seen on him, and jolted backward, smoothing his hair back.

“Oh...um, nothing,” he said. “It’s just…your breathing seemed kind of weird, so I was just checking it out, you know.”

“I may still be concussed,” said Robb, “but it’s not like I’m just going to stop breathing all of a sudden.”

“I know, I know. I was just…never mind,” said Theon, hands falling limply to his sides.

Robb grinned and propped himself up against his pillow.

“Hey, I have to leave for school,” Theon said, edging away from the bed.

“See you this afternoon?” said Robb, a note of question in his voice.

“I have work right after school,” Theon replied, looking stricken. “I close tonight.”

“Oh,” said Robb, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face.

“Yeah,” said Theon. He cleared his throat. “Well, bye.”

Robb watched him walk out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Robb turned on his side, pressing his cheek into his pillow. The sheets were still warm where Theon had lain.

Robb tried to close his eyes and fall back asleep, but it was to no avail. A world of worry plagued him. He sprang from his bed; he needed to find Jon before he left for school.

“Jon,” he said, catching his cousin by the arm in the kitchen.

“What?” Jon asked, startled and stiffening at his touch.

Robb glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

“Can you watch over Sansa and Theon at school while I’m gone?” he said. “I’m worried about the trouble they’ve gotten into with Joffrey.”

“Joffrey should be the one worrying,” Jon said, “after what he did.”

“Jon,” said Robb, his eyes imploring.

“You know I always watch out for Sansa,” said Jon. “She’s my sister too.”

“And Theon,” said Robb.

“And Theon," Jon echoed, rolling his eyes.

“Jon, I’m serious,” said Robb.

“So am I.” Jon patted him on the shoulder before turning to leave. “I’m going to be late. Later, bro.”

Robb spent his day watching television, which no longer made his head hurt, and talking to his mother. When his father came home in the early afternoon, he pulled Robb into a tight embrace, something he rarely ever did. Robb felt tears rush to his eyes for some reason. Embarrassed, he rubbed them away before his father could see.

Ned Stark grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined Robb and his mother on the living room couch, where they caught up and made small talk. Strangely, Robb found it hard to meet his father’s flinty eyes. His mother kept squeezing his arm and giving him small smiles. Robb thought that maybe she sensed his tension, or maybe she just wanted to lend him her support.

The three of them decided to take Grey Wind for a walk around the neighborhood, and the fresh air improved Robb’s mood tremendously. He hadn’t realized how stuffy his house had been, despite its high, arching windows and wide halls. The last of the morning crispness still lingered in the air, and Robb gulped lungfulls of it, feeling refreshed.

Out in the open, he was less afraid. In the living room with his parents, he had felt that there was hardly enough room for the three of them and his secret. It had seemed as though the very weight of it would cause the walls to come crashing down and crush them all in their own home. Here though, his burdens could float away, unbound, and he could breath without fear of bursting.

Robb wasn’t ready to come out to his father— that was the truth of it, despite all his mother’s reassurance. There were others he needed to tell first.

He wondered how Jon would take it, if it would be awkward at first, if he would ever truly recover from the news. Robb had had Jon by his side his entire life— it pained him to think that their bond could be in any way temporary or conditional.

Robb pushed the thought away and reached down to unleash Grey Wind at the edge of a wooded park near their house. He watched Grey Wind lope through the trees, pausing now and again to sniff the forest floor or stick his muzzle into thickets of brush, his tail wagging eagerly. Today though, he didn’t wander as far as usual, often returning to Robb’s side to lick his fingers or pant up at him, whining for treats.

Some of the leaves had begun to turn. Soon autumn colors would claim the forest, and dried foliage would crust their path and crunch beneath their feet as they walked. Later still, glistening snow would blanket the forest floor and weigh down the boughs of browning trees. Robb always longed for winter; it was an ache that never ebbed, a yearning in his bones.

“Be patient, love,” his mother had told him once, when he was little. “Enjoy summer while it lasts. What you have now is all you have for certain.”

Robb hadn’t known what she’d meant, then, but he thought he understood now. He found himself wondering what he _did_ have for certain. Only doubt, it seemed. 

They arrived home just before the others got back from school, save for Jon, who had practice, and Theon, who had work. Robb was relieved to see Sansa home and safe, but he found himself wishing that Jon and Theon were home too.

He was in his room surfing the internet after dinner when Jon walked in, slinging the gym bag he’d taken to practice behind him.

“You smell terrible,” Robb said, snapping his laptop shut. “I guess I never notice when we leave practice together because I probably always smell terrible too.”

Jon smiled and set his bag down with a thud. He crossed the room and hopped up onto the bed beside Robb, giving him a playful shove when he wrinkled his nose.

“How was school today?” Robb asked.

“Sansa and Theon survived the day, if that’s what you mean,” said Jon.

“That’s good,” said Robb. “But I was just asking. I care about how your day was, too.”

“It was fine,” Jon said, shrugging. “More boring even than usual, with you gone and all.”

“And practice?” Robb prompted.

“Alright,” Jon said. “Cley’s looking decent. Getting experience.”

Cley Cerwyn, a sophomore, would be going on as quarterback for Robb while he was out. The thought of missing Friday’s game made Robb’s stomach sink.

“Good,” he said. “See father yet?”

“Yeah, just now,” said Jon.

They fell into a strange silence then, Jon scrolling through his phone and Robb pretending to pick at one of his nails. Maybe it was only strange because Robb knew what conversation was to come next, but it seemed as though Jon, too, sensed that something was amiss. Robb counted down, preparing himself. _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. One. One. One._

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

Robb cleared his throat.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

Jon turned toward him, waiting for him to continue.

Robb let out a deep breath, knowing that waiting wasn’t going to make it any easier.

“I’m gay,” he said.

Jon nodded slowly, his gaze falling down to Robb’s fidgeting fingers and then back up to meet Robb’s own. Robb wished he would say something. _Anything._

“So…?” Robb said when he couldn’t bear Jon’s silence any longer. He raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at his cousin.

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jon said, smiling for some reason. “It’s not like I’m surprised.”

“You’re not?” said Robb.

“I mean, no, not really” said Jon. “We’ve talked about girls a lot, Robb. And _haven’t_ talked about girls a lot, too. I spend a lot of time around straight boys— I’m one of them, Gods help me. And I spend a lot of time around you. It hasn’t been that hard to put together.”

“And you don’t…” Robb searched for the right word. “You don’t care?”

Jon put a hand on Robb’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Our parents may not be the same, but you’re my brother and my best friend,” Jon said. “I would kill for you. Do you think I care who you want to fuck?”

Robb smiled, the touch of Jon’s hand melting his rigidity away.

“Would you care if that person was Theon?” Robb asked.

Jon rolled his eyes, but a smile crept up his cheeks.

“I meant in general, but I guess I knew that too. Or figured,” he said. “That bit is a bit weird, but it’s not because you’re both blokes. It’s because you’re _my_ blokes.”

“That’s oddly touching,” said Robb.

“Thanks,” Jon said dryly.

Robb threw all his weight backward and fell against his mattress, sighing.

“Hey,” said Jon, after letting Robb revel in his relief for a few moments. “Want to play a video game or something? I won’t tell your mother, so long as it doesn’t give you too bad of a headache.”

Robb grinned, pulling himself upright again.

“Absolutely,” he said.

They scooted to the edge of the bed, draping their legs over the footboard. Jon flicked the TV on, and they sat up together until Robb's fingers became slow and his head heavy, and he finally nodded off.

When he woke to the morning light spilling through his blinds, Robb thought at first that the warm shape beside him was Jon, that they had both fallen asleep playing video games.

But it was Theon’s face pressed up against the pillow next to his, Theon’s breath, warm against his skin. His eyelashes shone copper-gold in the soft morning light. Robb let himself fall into his pattern of breathing, chest rising and falling slowly beneath the covers. Robb wanted more than anything to reach out and trace the edges of his jaw, to kiss the soft skin over his eyes.

After some time— it could’ve been minutes, hours even— Theon’s eyes blinked open slowly. Robb didn’t let himself flinch away or draw back.

“G’morning, T,” he said.

Theon mumbled something indistinct in reply, his eyelids drooping groggily.

Robb couldn’t suppress his smile, and a breath of laughter escaped him.

“What?” Theon asked, eyes fluttering open again.

“Nothing,” said Robb, still grinning. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

A look of concern crossed over Theon’s face.

“I can go,” he said quickly. “I just got home from work late last night and I was tired and my room was cold and I missed you. I can stop coming if—”

“No,” Robb said, more forcefully than he’d planned. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I mean, you don’t have to. I like it when you’re here.”

Theon smiled at him slowly before rolling onto his back.

“What time is it?” he asked, yawning.

“Dunno,” said Robb. He heard something clutter as Theon fumbled for his phone on the bedside desk.

“Shit,” Theon said, jolting upward in the bed.

“What is it?” said Robb. He pushed himself up against the headboard.

“I’m gonna be late for school,” said Theon. He tumbled from the bed, scrambling to gather his things.

“How much time do you have?” Robb asked.

Theon stopped wriggling into his shoes to meet Robb’s eyes.

“First period started ten minutes ago,” he said.

A beat of grave silence hung in the air before the two burst into laughter. Theon was still wrestling into his left sneaker as he hopped across the room. He paused underneath the doorframe, and for a moment Robb thought he was going to turn around and say something more, but then he continued onward into the hall, shutting the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Robb felt as though the doorknob had been thrust into his chest. He slid down the headboard and fell back against his mattress once more, burying himself in his bedding. So much had happened in the past few days, and he felt exhausted. But by the hour, his days had become dull and monotonous. He felt like he was wasting away in his bed. He had done a million things and accomplished nothing. Most of all, he wished he could go back to school and resume his normal routine, unmarred by this new strange puzzle of deciding whom to tell his secret to and when.

It was his mother’s and Jon’s acceptance that gave him strength, in his world of doubt. That, and Theon’s smile, his morning mothball breath. But Robb found himself wondering if even that was something he had for certain.

His father had to return to work that morning, but after he left, Robb took Grey Wind for a long walk with his mother. Robb found himself constantly trying to push the pace as they strode through the park, while he normally preferred to keep it at a casual stroll. He knew it wouldn’t do much to rectify how out of shape he felt, but any exercise was better than none. Cooped up inside the house for days, he felt as though his muscles had turned to jelly. Robb knew that a few days off couldn’t be too detrimental, but he feared going back into the football season unprepared.

On their way back through the woods, Robb seated himself on a bench and waited for his mother to catch up. Grey Wind trotted over just as she drew up to the bench. She scratched him between the ears silently. It seemed as if she was waiting for Robb to speak, as if she knew he’d stopped because he wanted to tell her something. Sometimes Robb wondered how she could read him so well.

“I told Jon today,” he said, trying his best to sound casual.

“Mmh.”

Robb couldn’t tell whether his mother’s response was one of ambivalence or approval. Catelyn had never been very fond of Jon. She knew that Jon wasn’t Ned’s son by another woman, but that was the rumor that the Stark family let live so that no one would find out who Jon’s real parents were. In truth, Jon was the son of Ned’s late sister, Lyanna, but Ned refused to tell even his family who Jon’s father was. Jon didn’t even know, and Robb knew that it was a source of great frustration for him. Though Jon’s circumstances of birth were no fault of his own, and he was not truly Ned Stark’s bastard, Robb suspected that Catelyn still blamed Jon for their family drama and the shame she was supposed to pretend to carry. If there was one thing that Robb disliked about his mother, it was her coldness to Jon.

“And how did he take it?” Catelyn asked, turning to Robb.

“Well,” said Robb. “He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t seem to care.”

“Good,” his mother replied. A smile played at her lips. “I figured.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

“We just hung out for awhile after,” said Robb. “Played video games.” He chewed at his lower lip and felt his voice quaver when he next spoke. “Mom, how do you think the others will take it?”

“Your brothers and sisters, you mean?” Catelyn asked.

Robb nodded, afraid to speak as tears welled in his eyes. He worried that Sansa would become afraid to be seen with him at school, that Arya, the tomboy, might grow more distant from him and even closer to Jon— not that it was a competition. Robb worried that Bran would stop looking up to him, that Rickon, too young now to understand or care, would grow up being teased at school on his behalf.

Catelyn’s hand moved up from Robb’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, stroking his hairline there.

“They’ve always adored you, Robb,” she said. “I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”

At that, the tears slid down his cheeks. His mother brushed them away with her thumbs, as she had done a hundred times before in those very woods, when Robb was young and would stumble and hurt himself, when he’d miss his father on business trips, when something bad had happened at school— his mother had always been there for him. In the woods they could always talk alone, with only the trees to hear them, with their whispering leaves.

Their walk home was quiet, and Robb spent the afternoon lounging around the house waiting for the others to come home from school, as he felt he had done for three days straight.

A wave of relief coursed through him when Theon and Sansa finally spilled, chattering, through the front door. Robb wondered if maybe his worries about them and Joffrey were misplaced, after all. Perhaps Sansa hadsuccessfully set him in his place.

Arya, Bran, and Rickon arrived home shortly after the high-schoolers, having all taken the same bus. Arya’s eyes lit up when Robb asked if she wanted to play catch with him.

“I still can’t go practice with the team, but you can help me keep my arm good,” Robb told her. “Just as long as you promise not to tackle me.”

Arya flashed her toothy grin and raced from the house, having grabbed the ball from the garage and made it out to the backyard before Robb had hardly gotten off the couch.

It was good to throw again. Arya darted across the yard like a cat, running routes that Jon had taught her. Theon and Sansa watched from the deck, picking away at their homework, but Bran waited inside. Robb felt a pang of guilt when he spotted his younger brother through the window, eyes glued to the television. Bran had always loved playing outdoors before the accident. Robb knew that it was hard for Bran to watch his siblings do so many things that he couldn’t. Offering to include him usually only made it worse. Robb and Bran played chess together often, something that Bran had grown quite good at and fond of, but with his concussion Robb had had to stay away from strategy games. Robb often felt that he had failed his younger brother in some way. He wished he knew better how to help him.

Their father came straight to the backyard when he arrived home, and Arya scurried to him to give him sweaty hug.

“I hope you’re not working him too hard,” Ned said with a warm look on his face that held just a flicker of a grin.

“I promise,” Arya said breathlessly.

Robb threw his father the football, and he caught it easily.

“You’d best get a start on your homework before dinner,” Ned told Arya, who huffed before running back to the house. He tossed the ball back to Robb and backed up.

They played catch together until Robb’s mother called them in for dinner. By then, Jon was back from practice. Robb relished the sweet ache in his muscles; it had only been a few days since he had thrown, but even a few days were too many.

The rest of the night passed lazily, and Robb retired early to bed. His door creaked open mere minutes after he’d slipped under the covers, and Theon crept to his bedside, wordless. Most nights, Robb flung himself across the entire bed, limbs at odd angles, taking up more space than one would think possible. Tonight, though, he’d already scooted over to one side of the bed, in hope that Theon would return and in reluctance to take up the empty space he’d occupied the previous two nights.

Theon crawled into the bed beside Robb, and minutes passed— minutes that could have been decades— before either of them said a word. Robb knew what he had to do. He was patient, but he had waited too long. He had waited nine years.

Robb had loved Theon Greyjoy since the moment he’d first set foot in the Stark household, a shy and scared boy of eight years. Robb’s heart had gone out to him— the sullen boy who hardly spoke at the dinner table the first few weeks, who cried in his room when he thought no one could hear him, who grew bolder and harder by the day, who came to laugh at everything because it was his only way of protecting himself from a world that made a joke of him. Robb had fallen for his quick grin, his bright eyes, but it was Theon’s slow, shy smile, the one he saved just for him, that Robb had come to love. Robb remembered the first time he saw it, when he’d reached out to Theon after he had fallen, pushed over by Jon in the yard.

Now Theon lay beside him, inches away.

_It’s not so far to reach_ , Robb told himself, _not anymore._

But he was afraid to his very core.

_I must be brave_ , Robb thought, He remembered something his father had told him once, when he’d asked him once how a man can be brave if he’s afraid. Robb still remembered Ned’s answer; he would never forget it. _That’s the only time a man can be brave._

Robb turned his head against the pillow, watching Theon stare up at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

“Theon,” he said, “I’m gay.”

Theon turned his head to meet Robb’s eyes, brow knitted in what seemed to be confusion, or possibly, Robb thought with dread, annoyance. His stomach sank.

“Yeah, Robb, I know,” said Theon.

The pressure in his stomach lifted all at once, and it was Robb’s turn to feel confused.

“What?” he said. A strange sense of frustration bubbled up within him. Why was no one surprised when he told them? Why did no one seem to care?

 Theon grinned at him, but it wasn’t anything like his trademark cocky smirk. Instead it was something smaller, more genuine— _bemused_ , even, Robb thought.

“Robb, we made out in a closet not even a week ago,” Theon said.

Robb considered that. A strange courage seized him then.

“Now we can make out outside of one,” he said, grinning.

Theon’s smile widened. He rolled over, placed a forearm on either side of Robb’s torso, and lowered himself until their lips locked together. Something in Robb’s chest seemed to swoop through him, making him feel weightless. He took Theon’s face in his hands, savoring the taste of his lips, the heat of his breath.

And then Theon drew away, sighing.

“What?” Robb asked, softly thumbing Theon’s cheek, feeling his peach fuzz. “What is it?”

Theon placed a hand over Robb’s and slid it gently off his face. He gave Robb a sad sort of smile and slumped back into his spot beside him.

Robb propped himself up on his elbows and turned to Theon.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I feel like you’ve been holding back all week.”

“I have been,” Theon admitted.

“Why?” Robb pressed.

Theon sighed and sat up. Robb followed suit, his heart hurtling in his chest.

“Look,” Theon said, “I’ve just felt really weird and…guilty, with you in your, you know…state.”

“My state?” said Robb.

“Yeah,” Theon said. “I guess that’s why I was afraid to do anything.”

“That’s it?” Robb asked. “You were afraid to kiss me because I got a concussion?”

“No— I mean, yeah,” Theon said. “We never really talked after what happened at the Tyrells’, and we were both drunk when it happened. Then you got concussed, and you were acting all weird and weren’t really thinking straight. I guess I never knew if you were flirting with me for real, or if you were just so fucked up that you couldn’t stop yourself. I wanted to make sure that if I kissed you, that you would want to kiss me, with no alcohol or brain damage to muddy your thinking.”

“Theon,” Robb said, smiling and shaking his head. He leaned in closer, finding Theon’s cheek with his lips. “I wanted to kiss you on Friday, at the Tyrells’.” He moved a bit higher on the same cheek. He felt Theon’s skin flush beneath his lips. “I wanted to kiss you on Saturday, at home.” He pressed his lips to Theon’s forehead. “And in the car.” He kissed Theon’s forehead again. “And in the hospital.” He moved down to Theon’s other cheek. “I wanted to kiss you on Sunday. And on Monday. And yesterday.” He moved to Theon’s neck, murmuring the words into Theon’s skin between kisses. “I wanna kiss you today. And I’ll want to tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.”

Theon pushed gently against Robb's chest, laughing.

“Easy, there,” he said. “Maybe you’ve recovered from your incident, but I haven’t.” The smile fell slowly from his face.

“What do you mean?” Robb asked.

Theon sighed. He wriggled out from beneath the sheets and shuffled to the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him for Robb. Reluctantly, Robb followed him.

“I’m still shaken from what happened to you,” Theon said. “I already told you how scared I was that night, and now that I know Joffrey’s got in in for you…” Theon trailed off, and something in his voice changed then. He turned to Robb, his jaw sharp, his eyes ice. “Robb, do you think there is anything I wouldn’t do to him? To someone who hurt you?”

“Theon please tell me you didn’t do anything at school,” Robb said.

Theon’s gaze fell away, and Robb felt his breath catch.

“Theon what did you do?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Theon said, his tone suddenly lighter. 

“ _Theon_ ,” Robb urged.

“Alright, I followed the little shit into the bathroom when he went in alone at lunch,” Theon confessed. “I just grabbed his shirt, pinned him to the wall, and had a few words with him.”

Robb moaned in dread, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple.

“Please, Theon,” he said. “I’m fine. I am. Just leave Joffrey alone from now on. It’s not safe for you.”

Theon scoffed.

“I don’t give two shits about what’s safe for me,” he said.

“I do,” said Robb. “It’s safer for all of us, too. For Sansa.” He squeezed Theon’s arm. “For me.”

“I know,” Theon said. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just…” His lower lip quavered, and his voice broke. “You’re all I’ve got.”

Robb could’ve said a million things then, versions of “that’s not true” or “don’t be so dramatic” or “I’m not going anywhere,” but instead he pulled Theon into him, wrapping his arms around Theon’s shoulders. Robb didn’t know how long they held each other like that, but part of him never wanted to stop.

“I don’t wanna fuck this up,” Theon said, his words muffling into Robb’s chest.

“Me neither,” Robb said, lips brushing against Theon’s hair. “That’s what I’ve been worrying about this whole time. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to ruin this. Ruin _us_.”

Finally, they broke apart. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed for a while, lingering in the heavy silence.

“Are you afraid?” Theon asked at last.

Robb nodded.

“Good,” Theon said.

“Why is that good?” said Robb.

“It means you care,” said Theon. “Look, Robb, I’m afraid too. But isn’t that what love is— fear?”

“Love?” Robb asked, heart racing. 

“I love you,” Theon said. “Of course I love you. We’ve lived together for nearly ten years and have seen each other almost every day. I may have spent more waking time with you than I have with any other person in this world. You reached out to me from the start, when I wanted to hate you, and you didn’t give up on me. You never have, even when you probably should’ve. You see good things in me, things even I can’t. You’ve been more a brother to me than my own ever were. How could I not love you?”

“I love you too,” said Robb, the words rushing out of him, taking some great weight with them. “But you said love is…is fear?” he stammered, not understanding. “It shouldn’t be.”

Theon sighed.

“Maybe not,” he said, “But when you love someone, you care about them so much…you don’t want anything to hurt them. Like how your mother worries all the time, fusses over you lot. Like how terrified I was when you were injured, lying on that field and not getting up. I thought…I thought…” Theon’s voice was thick, and Robb realized he was crying. “Robb, I would die if anything happened to you.”

Robb took one of Theon’s hands between his own.

“I’m scared of how much I love you,” Theon continued, tears shining on his cheeks.  “I’ve never felt that way about…anyone, I guess. I lost my mother when I was little. My father was always harsh to me, always unfair. My brothers…they beat me, my sister mocked me constantly. I never thought I could love someone. Like, really, love someone, do you know what I mean? I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t want to— couldn’t _let_ myself because I thought it would make me weak, you know? I’d just get myself hurt.”

_You’re all I’ve_ got, Theon had said. Robb had two parents he adored and admired fiercely, brothers and sisters he loved with all his heart, a cousin who was close as a brother to him. He had a home and a future and a family. Not for the first time, Robb realized how lucky he was and felt guilt churn through him. Theon still had a father and a sister, somewhere. Maybe they loved him, once. Maybe they still loved him, but they didn’t know him. Not anymore. Not like Robb did.

_He loves me like he loves no one else, and no one loves him like I do,_ Robb thought. _I am his, and he is mine._

“I love you,” Robb said. “I want you to know that whatever happens to us, whatever happens _with_ us…it could be years from now and we could be fighting or you could leave or tear me to pieces, but a part of me will still love you. Nothing can change that. Not ever.”

Theon just stared at him for a moment, eyes filling. His question was feeble.

“Now and always?” he asked.

“Now and always,” Robb answered. He wound his fingers through Theon’s and gave his hand a squeeze. “We can be afraid together,” he said.

Theon leaned into him. They pressed their heads together, laughing through their tears.


	6. Scarlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb enjoys a few lazy days at home, but his first visit back to campus is more eventful than he planned.

It was Theon’s weight rising from the bed that woke him. Instinctively, through the darkness of his heavy eyelids, Robb reached to pull him back down.

“Robb. _Robb_ ,” Theon protested as he came crashing back onto the bed.

Robb opened his eyes slowly, meeting Theon’s, all seafoam and sparkling.

“I can’t be late again,” said the Greyjoy boy, propping himself up on his forearms. His tone was chiding, but a grin pulled at his lips.

Robb tried to mumble something in reply, but his words were slow and his mind slower yet. Whatever he ended up saying must’ve been funny, because Theon laughed before bending down to give him a kiss.

The heat of Theon’s lips on his own seemed to send a jolt of electricity through Robb’s body. His heart thrummed in his chest, and his blood rushed. He shot up in the bed and cupped Theon’s cheek in his hand. But to his dismay, Theon pulled away.

“Okay, I really have to go now,” said Theon. “Not because I want to, but because if I stay any longer I won’t leave at all.”

“Then don’t,” Robb said breathlessly.

Theon snickered at that, though Robb was only half-kidding. Theon slid off the bed.

“Try to get some more sleep,” he said as he slipped out the door.

_How can I sleep after that?_ Robb wondered. _How can anyone sleep?_ He leaned back against the headboard and let out a big breath of air, something halfway between a sigh and a laugh. He was elated, embarrassed, relieved, and confused all at once. He counted the days in his head since the Tyrells’ party, trying to recall everything that had happened, to make sense of it all, as if each memory— bitter or sweet— would fly away from him if he didn’t work to recapture them now. Robb didn’t want to lose any of it.

He knew there was no use in trying to fall back asleep— not with this newfound energy that gripped him— so when Robb was finally able to collect himself, he went downstairs to join his mother at the kitchen counter. They made small talk as Catelyn sipped her coffee, Robb suppressing grins between bites of cereal. He noticed her looking at him quizzically now and again, her lips pulled thin and her brow scrunching; she seemed to be trying to figure him out.

They walked Grey Wind after breakfast. He was even more energetic than usual that morning, bounding tirelessly between the trees, tongue lolling and tail wagging furiously. Afterward, Robb and his mother returned home to watch reruns of some of their favorite shows. Cautiously, Robb tried to mute himself, but it was to little avail. Even he took note of the extra spring in his step and the strange looks his mother would give him from time to time.

“You seem to be in a much better mood today,” she said, ruffling his hair while they sipped their after-lunch tea.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Robb said, perhaps too nonchalantly. “I think the concussion symptoms are really starting to fade.”

“That’s good,” Catelyn remarked. “We’ll try to get you back in school on Tuesday after the long weekend, but you’ll have to take it easy.”

Robb was surprised by how much he missed school, but what he really wanted was to get back to practice. That afternoon he spent the better part of an hour on his mother’s stationary bike, and he only stopped because Catelyn had come downstairs and made him. A thin film of sweat had barely begun to bead his brow, and he felt he could’ve kept it going all day, but she wanted to make sure that he didn’t overdo it. Robb planned to consult with his coach after school the next day and possibly get a quick lift in if he felt up to it.

When Jon got home, he and Robb ran routes in the backyard together, even though the former had just come from practice himself.

“Too tired to play catch for a bit?” Robb had asked when Jon trudged through the front door, slinging his gym bag behind him.

“Never,” Jon had replied, smiling, though Robb knew he would’ve agreed to play no matter how tired he really was.

Theon had picked up a shift at the coffee shop after school, so it was just the Stark family at dinner after Robb’s father got home from work.

“I was thinking,” Ned said as Catelyn passed him the casserole, “maybe we should go up to the cabin this weekend before it gets too cold to swim in the lake. I thought it might be good for everyone to get away for a bit, especially with the three-day-weekend. We could leave after the game on Friday.”

“Just as long as Theon doesn’t work,” Robb said before he could stop himself.

Jon met his eyes from across the table, but aside from that, nobody acknowledged Robb’s comment with anything more than a perfunctory nod. There was a time when Theon would’ve rather stayed home than join the Starks for family vacations. Of course, there was also a time when the Starks wouldn’t have trusted Theon enough to leave him home alone for the weekend. Robb wanted to believe that both those periods had passed.

The Starks finished their dinner quietly before departing to their respective rooms to spend the rest of their night. Robb, with no homework to do and too much time on his hands, took a seat on his bed to mull over the day’s happenings and wait for Theon to come home.

Spending the weekend at the cabin sounded incredible to Robb. Not only would he have the chance to get out of the house he felt he’d been cooped in for ages, he’d also be offered ample distraction from all he was missing at school. And on top of all that, Robb was happy to put as many miles as he could between his family and Joffrey Baratheon.

Robb almost fell off the bed when his door swung open, the doorknob striking the wall beside it with a resounding thud. Theon strode through the doorframe, unsmiling and eyes intent. For a moment Robb thought he was going to say something; instead he made straight for the bed, climbed over the footboard, and kissed Robb full on the mouth, pushing him back against his pillows.

It took Robb a moment to buffer, to realize that what was happening to him was real and not some dizzy daydream. When he came to his senses, stomach soaring, he kissed Theon back hard, then drew away.

“Long day?” Robb asked, breathing onto Theon’s neck.

“You bet,” said Theon.

They locked eyes before diving in again. Robb rolled, eyes closed, turning Theon onto his back and stilting himself up on his forearms. The buzz of Theon’s laughter felt good against his lips. Theon tried to turn him again, and somehow, in the mix of things, they toppled to the floor, pulling some of Robb’s bedcovers with them.

“You okay?”

A shadow of what seemed to be genuine worry flickered in Theon’s eyes.

“If you are,” Robb said, leaning over to kiss him.

Robb could feel Theon’s smile form beneath his own. Theon siezed him by the biceps, squeezing with firm but tender pressure. Somehow, they found their feet, stumbling across the room. Theon pushed Robb up against the wall, cradling the back of his head with one hand.

“What are you doing?” Robb asked, pulling away for a moment.

“I don’t want you to get another concussion,” Theon replied.

Robb laughed before meeting Theon’s lips once more. This time they kissed more slowly, running their hands up and down each other.

Wordlessly, Theon slid a hand beneath Robb’s jeans, his fingers slipping under the elastic at the top of his briefs.

Robb let out a soft groan and shuddered.

“Do you want me to stop?” Theon whispered. His ocean eyes blinked up at Robb in mute concern.

“Gods, no.” Robb seized Theon’s lower lip between his teeth, dragging it gently through them as Theon took him in his hand. But Robb couldn’t focus on making out, not with Theon’s hand down _there._ He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. Theon steered him to the bed, Robb moving drunkenly wherever he pushed him.  

Robb fell backward against the bed, almost paralyzed with ecstasy as Theon slid his hand up and down the length of him. He had to clench his jaw before he came to keep from crying out, but as the moment passed, his mouth fell open, and a long sigh escaped him. Blindly, he pulled Theon closer to him, burying his nose in Theon’s hair. They laid there for minutes, wordless, soaking in each other’s warmth, before Robb planted a kiss on Theon’s forehead, turned him over, straddled him, and whispered in his ear.

“Your turn,” he breathed, fumbling for Theon’s zipper.

***

Dawn pressed on them before Robb could object. When he blinked awake, half-blind in the warm morning light, he rolled over to see the time on his bedside clock. Theon’s alarm would be off soon. He roused Theon with slow kisses, pressing harder against his skin as he stirred.

“’Morning,” Theon said groggily, turning over to look at Robb.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” said Robb.

“Well you’re certainly affectionate today,” Theon remarked.

Robb leaned over to kiss him on the lips, twisting his head to the right. Theon kissed him back briefly, then placed on a hand on his chest and pushed him back gently.

“Don’t do this to me,” he said.

“Do what?” asked Robb.

“This,” said Theon, motioning at him vaguely. “I have to leave in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” said Robb, glancing at the clock. “That’s early for you.”

“I have to shower,” Theon explained. “I smell like you.” He pressed his nose against Robb’s shoulder.

“Is that a bad thing?” Robb asked.

“Now? No. For school, yes,” Theon said.

Robb laughed and leaned his head against Theon’s.

“Stop being cute; I have to go,” said Theon.

“No you don’t,” Robb murmured. He wrapped his arms around Theon’s torso.

“I really do though,” said Theon, peeling himself away. Robb watched him turn off the alarm on his phone and slide down from the bed to pick his shirt up from the floor. The muscles in his back rippled when he pulled it over his head.

“Stay,” Robb blurted.

“I have school,” said Theon.

“So?” said Robb.

“I kind of have to be there.”

“Just skip,” Robb suggested.

“Robb Stark, you’re supposed to be a good influence on me,” Theon teased. “What have I done to you? Have I turned you into a rebel?”

“Maybe,” Robb said, scooting to the edge of the bed.

Theon grinned at him, then made for the door.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to play with myself a little,” Robb said, slipping a hand beneath the sheets. “Think of you.”

Theon stopped in his tracks and gave him a tortured look.

“You know what, Robb?” he said. “Fuck. You.”

“Please,” said Robb.

Theon’s muscles seemed to loosen. He leaned back against the door frame, his head hitting the wood behind him.

“Robb, you are truly cruel, you know that?” he said.

“You’re the cruel one,” said Robb. “Leaving me.”

“For eight hours,” said Theon.

“Eight long hours,” said Robb.

Theon sighed.

“I’m going now,” he said, “before you can convince me to stay.”

“Am I close?” Robb asked.

“Very,” Theon answered before striding out the door and shutting it quickly behind him.

Robb sighed and fell back against the mattress. His limbs felt heavy, and his head felt light. He rolled to the other side of the bed, where Theon’s warmth still lingered on the sheets. Robb tried not to think of Theon in the shower, body wet and glistening like when he got out of the pool, taut muscles smooth to the touch. It was useless trying not to think about it, Robb realized. Besides, what reason did he have to feel guilty now?

It was all a bit weird, Robb had to admit, when he gave it a little thought. He and Theon had grown up as best friends, had grown up like brothers. It was different, Robb knew, but it was still strange in some ways. They had been boys together, were still boys together, trying to figure out how to become men. Robb and Theon had played and fought and laughed and cried together too many times to count. The body Robb had seen numerous times in so many platonic contexts— at the pool, changing at home and in gym class, running around the yard during the summer, skinny dipping in the lake— was one he now feasted his eyes on, one he caressed and kissed. It only felt weird when he thought about it too much. But Robb thought about everything too much. It only seemed wrong when Theon was gone. With him, everything made sense.

Robb went downstairs to eat breakfast with his mother and think about Theon some more. Robb couldn’t deny that it w _as_ weird thinking about him in her presence, his skin still dewy from sweat. She knew him so well he worried she could crawl right through his skin and read his thoughts like the paperbacks she took with her everywhere.

But if Catelyn knew what Robb was thinking, she didn’t let on. She sipped her coffee calmly at the kitchen counter, thumbing through her book.

The hours until Robb had to leave for his school went painfully slow. He found himself glancing at the time every chance he got. When it finally hit three, his mother gathered her keys and her purse— Robb had gotten dressed hours ahead in anticipation. Although he couldn’t play at the game, he’d still go and sit with the team; he was a captain after all. It was his duty to be there, win or lose. To cheer on his teammates. To learn from their successes and from their mistakes alike.

His mother drove to the school; she still didn’t trust Robb to drive in his state. Robb himself didn’t mind— although he liked driving, it was nice to get to see more of the city on his way in, his head leaned against the passenger seat window. The late afternoon light glittered on the river and hit the city with its lazy haze. Waning puddles flickered with light as they drove by, slipping toward the cracks in the sidewalks that seemed to drink them right up.

When they finally arrived at the school, Robb burst out the passenger side door before the car had come to a full stop in its parking spot.

“Robb!” Catelyn balked, killing the engine.

Robb ignored her, stepping onto the sidewalk and breathing in the bustle of a high school just released from Friday classes. Students scurried through the parking lot to their cars, lounged beneath elm trees or on benches, laughed, chattered, held hands, pushed through the crowd. It had felt like more than a week since Robb had been back.

“See you at the game!” Catelyn called as Robb started to walk away. He turned to smile at her before stepping forward and blending into the mix of students.

As he made his way to the gym, he was stopped at every turn by people coming up to talk to him and welcome him back. He was gawked at, ruffled on the head, halted to recount his incident, clapped on the back. So many people came up to see him, but the only person he wanted to see was Theon. He had swim practice, Robb knew, but still he scanned the halls for any sign of him, eyes drifting beyond those of the friends who approached him in the hallway, pulling at his attention.

Despite having left early, he was fifteen minutes late to his coach's office. 

“Sorry, coach,” he said breathlessly when he arrived, “I tried to make it sooner, but—”

“It’s alright, kid,” said Jory, smiling. “I’m just glad you’re here.”  

Jory set him up with a light lift and a short stint on the bike. By the time he’d finished, there was still an hour until the team had to meet in the locker room for the pregame warmup. Robb mopped his face off with a wet towel and threw a sweatshirt on before meeting Jon, Ygritte, and the Smalljon for a walk around the school.

Ygritte didn’t attend the same high school as the Starks. She went to school in a poorer neighborhood uptown but always, since the beginning of her relationship with Jon, hopped on the subway to meet her boyfriend after classes got out. Robb often wondered if she didn’t like spending time at home, if it was less about being with Jon than simply being away. Robb remembered driving through her neighborhood at the north edge of the city, with its broken fences and chipped paint, apartment buildings crammed together, reaching for pieces of sky, for clear air. Yet, if Ygritte felt any shame in where she lived, she didn’t show it. If anything, she was proud to come from the northernmost end of the city. She wasn’t spoiled, she claimed, like the rich "sothron" kids at Jon’s school.

The foursome ambled aimlessly around the school grounds. It was a beautiful day, though it had rained earlier. The sun emerged through parting clouds, and the air was cool and bright. As he often did, Robb led the way, half a step ahead of the others. He took them across the baseball field, then alongside the East gym where the pool was, hoping for a glimpse of Theon.

Robb was skimming his fingers along the bricks of the building when he heard voices coming from the alley behind the gym.

“Where you going, hops?” a low voice barked. “Forget your towel?”

“Shove off.”

Robb’s heart skipped a beat. _Theon_.

“You should do hurdles next season, Greyjoy,” a different voice chimed in. “The way you jumped that fence at the game last week to go save your boyfriend—”

“I said. Fuck. _Off_.”

The sound of flesh on flesh rang through the alley. Someone grunted; the others laughed. Robb ran.

He rounded the corner just in time to see one of Joffrey’s friends, a second-year senior, kicking Theon in the ribs. The brute didn’t even know what was coming to him before Robb’s fist met him full in the face, causing him to stagger backward into the brick wall. A second adversary stepped in, but Robb wheeled around, catching him between the eyes with a hard elbow.

“Hey!” Theon cried, scrambling to his feet between Robb and the others “No no no!” He pushed Robb behind him with one hand, holding the other out to stop their opponents. Blood rushed from his nose and dripped onto the asphalt, scarlet.

One of Joffrey’s friends, the one who had been kicking Theon, sat on the ground looking dazed. The one Robb had elbowed was bent at the waist, hands cupped around his nose. The third stood in the middle of them, bewildered. His eyes widened in fear when Jon, Ygritte, and the Smalljon drew up behind Robb. He pulled the sitting boy to his feet, and the three of them clambered off.

“Robb, what were you thinking?” Theon cried, rounding on Robb. His voice was thick and stuffy as blood gushed from his nose, dripping onto his white shirt. “You can’t be getting into fights— you’ll get another concussion!”

“You’re hurt,” Robb said, reaching for Theon’s face.

“’M fine,” Theon backed away, rubbing his nose with his forearm. It was streaked bright red when he pulled it away.

“A _knife_?” Jon was yelling behind them. “Ygritte, what the hell?”

“I told you, it’s rough up north,” Ygritte said calmly. “Those boys weren’t fooling around.”

Robb turned his head briefly to look at them. Jon’s face was red, but Ygritte was cool and pale as ever, twisting something between her fingers. The Smalljon stood a few feet to the side, scratching his forehead and studying his shoes. Robb had missed something, but it didn’t matter right now. He turned back to Theon.

“My gym towel,” he said, handing it to Theon. “Lean forward into it. Not back.”

Theon took the towel and pressed it to his nose.

“Danks,” he said, voice muffled behind the fabric.

“Your side,” said Robb, reaching to peel up Theon’s shirt. Theon flinched away when Robb’s fingers grazed his already reddening skin. “Gods, do we need to get you to the hospital?”

“Doe,” Theon said from behind the towel, stepping away and shaking his head.

“Let’s get you some ice,” Robb said, stepping toward Theon once more. “Let’s get you home, I’ll call my mom, she’ll drive  you—”

“Gods, Robb I’m fine,” Theon cut in. The towel on his face was darkening, the stain spreading. “Besides, my car is here anyway.”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Robb. “I’ll drive you.”

“You shouldn’t even be driving,” said Theon. Blood seeped from the split in his lip down between his teeth. He spit onto the concrete and looked up. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

“Please, please, just let me get you some ice,” said Robb. He reached a hand up to hold the soaked towel against Theon’s nose, and the Greyjoy boy’s arms fell limply to his sides. “And a new towel,” Robb added. He felt a rush of hot air through the fabric as Theon sighed, relenting.

“Fine,” Theon said  begrudgingly. “A new towel.”

“Do you guys need any help?” the Smalljon asked awkwardly, shifting away from Jon and Ygritte, both of whom were now yelling.

“Gods, will all of you stop making such a fuss?” Theon snapped.

The Smalljon raised his hands as if Theon had pointed a gun at him.

“I’ll just go back to the locker room, then,” he mumbled before turning to leave.

Robb helped Theon along, his arm looped under the Greyjoy boy’s. Robb could tell that Theon was trying to bite his pain back; his jaw was clenched hard, and he winced when he stepped with his left foot, the side where he’d been kicked. Robb knew better than to comment, but he drew soft circles on Theon’s shoulder as they made their way to the trainer’s office.

Theon insisted on staying outside by himself, but Robb refused to leave him alone.

“Rodrik will be with the team, anyway,” said Robb. “No one will see you.”

He handed Theon a few fresh towels and wrapped the ice to Theon’s side, careful to not press too hard where he was tender. Robb couldn’t help but admire the tight muscles of Theon’s torso, no matter how swollen and pink they were. He ran his fingers over them lightly, and Theon met his eyes.

They hobbled out to Theon’s car, where Robb waited with him until his nose stopped bleeding.

“Feeling light headed?” Robb asked.

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

“ _No._ Seven hells, Robb, I’m fine,” said Theon. “Don’t you have to be with your team soon?”

“Soon,” said Robb. “But this is more important.”

“What?” asked Theon, “sitting in my car and interrogating me?”

“No, Theon, _you_ ,” said Robb. “You’re more important.”

Theon’s eyes shifted toward the dashboard.

“I’m not bleeding anymore,” he said. “I feel fine—”

“Theon,” Robb interjected.

“Okay, I’ve felt better, but I’m fine enough,” said Theon. “You should go. Don’t worry about me.”

Robb chewed at his lip and sighed.

“Text me when you’re home safe,” he said. “I wish someone were going with you. My parents, Sansa, Patrek, anyone. Don’t stop anywhere.”

“You think I want to go out looking like this?” said Theon, motioning down at his bloody shirt.

Robb gave him a pained smile, then leaned forward and kissed him gently on his split lip. Theon brushed his cheek with his thumb before pulling away.  

“Text me,” Robb repeated, stepping out of the car and leaning into the open window. “But not while you’re driving.”

“Find Jon,” said Theon. “Go to your team. Don’t get in any more fights— _ever_ , Robb. Not on my account.”

“You think I could just stand by and let them do that to you?” said Robb, voice rising. “Let them hurt you like that? Who knows what they would’ve done to you? It’s bad enough as it is!”

“Robb, I’d be fine,” said Theon. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

A familiar rage filled Robb then. When they were younger, Theon had confessed that his older brothers had beat him, and that his father sometimes had, too. It made Robb sick with anger to think about. He thought of Theon, a scared and timid young boy who didn’t deserve an ounce of the cruelty and hatred thrown upon him, and of his own siblings, whom he loved dearly. Robb didn’t understand how someone could do that to their younger brother or sister.

“Theon, I swear I will never let anyone hurt you,” he said.

The smile Theon gave him then was strange. Sad, almost, it seemed.

“You might someday,” Theon said, shifting his car into reverse.

Robb watched him wheel out of the parking lot, grappling with his parting words. He stood by the curbside for a few moments, mulling them over before the rage boiled up inside of him again. Joffrey was lucky the Starks were going away for the weekend. If Robb saw him now, there would be no saving the Baratheon bastard. 


	7. When the Water's Choppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stark family spends a long weekend up north at their cabin for a welcome change of pace. But the sun isn't always shining, and the water isn't always smooth.

Robb relived the game a hundred times on the car ride up to the cabin, sandwiched in his signature spot between Jon and Theon. The other team had butchered them. It was clear that Cley Cerwyn had practiced hard during Robb’s week off, but it still wasn’t enough; after numerous turnovers and several sacks, he had trudged up to Robb after the game to apologize, his hair matted with sweat and his head hung low.

“It’s not your fault, Cley,” Robb had said to him. “You did your best. Our defense wasn’t in its greatest shape tonight either; there were a lot of factors.”

The smile Cley had given him then was short-lived, his gaze shifting down to his muddy cleats.

“Hey,” Robb had said, clapping his shoulder and giving him a firm shake. “Thanks for covering for me. Coach will note your hard work under pressure, and the guys will as well.”

Despite his efforts to appear calm, Robb had had a difficult time sitting still on the bench during the game. He’d wanted more than anything to step in and run a few plays himself. While the ball was still in the air, Robb had watched in horror as he saw what was about to unfold, and in the car he replayed each down in his head, envisioning different outcomes for each.

Despite the devastating loss, it was good to have seen Cley play a full varsity game. Robb was able to better pick out his strengths and weaknesses now. He could spend a little extra time with the Cerwyn boy at practice now and then, help prime him for future seasons.

More than anything, Robb felt guilty for letting the team down. Rationally, he knew that no one blamed him for the concussion he’d received at the previous game, but still he felt responsible for abandoning his team in its hour of need.

More upsetting still was Theon’s split lip and worrying bruises from his fight with Joffrey’s friends, not to mention Jon’s sulkier-than-usual attitude, which Robb suspected had something to do with his quarrel with Ygritte earlier that afternoon. Robb hadn’t been able to pay much attention to the pair at the time, preoccupied with Theon and his injuries, but he planned to ask Jon about it sometime when they weren’t crammed in the back row of the Starks’ massive nine-seat van.

The utter silence of the drive was strange for such a large family. No one wanted to discuss the game or Theon’s suspicious bruises, Jon was even quieter than normal in his bad mood, and it was past the younger Starks’ bedtime.

Theon fell asleep when they were about an hour from their destination, his head lolling, heavy, onto Robb’s shoulder. The split lip had made Theon look tough when he was awake, but while asleep it changed his face in a different way that pulled at Robb’s heartstrings. They were both just kids, after all. Robb let himself enjoy the innocence of it, let himself smile without fear of anyone seeing. They had fallen asleep on each other numerous times on road trips, and no one had ever thought anything of it. All the Stark children had fallen asleep on each other at some point or another. One time Robb had drooled a thick puddle into Jon’s favorite v-neck. Bran and Arya had once clonked their unconscious heads together so hard the former had ended up with a black eye.

Robb liked the feeling of Theon’s warmth against his arm, the sense of responsibility it gave him. Theon was his to protect, even if just from the harsh glare of the setting sun looming in the western window. When it dipped below the horizon, Robb carefully drew the shade back up. He realized he had forgotten all about the game since Theon had fallen asleep. Robb leaned his head against Theon’s and pretended to sleep, too. 

Robb lurched forward with a start when the car halted in the cabin driveway— real sleep had stolen a few minutes from him at some point along the way.

The Starks’ cabin was situated on a large lake two hours north of the city. Thick pine woods enveloped the log cottage on its flanks; obscuring the space between it and its nearest neighbor, a small stone chalet a quarter mile down the lakeshore.

Arriving at the cabin seemed to shift the atmosphere inside the van, invigorating the Stark children. Arya and Rickon raced from the car to the front steps and Sansa scrambled to gather her belongings, unplugging her phone from the aux and her laptop from the charging port. Robb shook Theon awake, the Greyjoy boy blinking at him groggily.

Rickon was still jangling the locked doorknob by the time Catelyn made it to the front steps with the keys. Robb watched him and Arya scurry inside the moment she opened the door, Sansa trailing behind them. Robb, Jon, and Theon stayed back to help Ned get Bran from the van and into his chair and wheel him up the ramp and inside.

The entry way offered a generous coat closet on the left and a small laundry space to the right. Two hallways stemmed from it further down. On the left wing, the bedroom that Sansa and Arya shared was joined by a bathroom to the bedroom that Bran and Rickon shared. On the right was the second largest bedroom in the cabin, which Robb, Jon, and Theon shared, and another bathroom. The hallway extending from the entry spilled into the dining room, which opened right up into the kitchen, with grand windows along its back wall facing the lake. A wooden staircase climbed up from the dining room to the second level, which housed the master suite. The living room took up the other half of the lower level of the cabin, with a screen door that led to the back porch and a cast iron spiral staircase leading up to an indoor loft, which overlooked the dining and living rooms and had glass doors that opened to a second-level terrace. The lower level sported high ceilings that slanted up to meet one another in a grand pinnacle that rose between the dining and living rooms. Exposed wooden beams held up each panel, and a deer antler chandelier hung from the ceiling over the dining room table, held up by black links of chain.

Robb loved the cabin dearly. He was ashamed of it, too. The Starks’ second home was larger that many of his friends’ only houses.

After getting Bran to his room, Robb, Jon, and Theon hauled their things into their own quarters.

Theon was the first to enter. He flung his bags to the side and made for the bunkbed, which he and Robb usually shared, while Jon took the twin bed along the other wall. Theon scrambled to the top bunk, and Robb huffed in protest.

“I’m usually on top,” he said.

“So?” said Theon. “I want to be on top this time.”

“Theon, you’ve been on the bottom for ten years,” said Robb.

“Well, I guess it’s time for a change-up, then,” Theon said.

Robb sighed and took a seat on the bottom bunk, slinging his bags with him.

“Look, if you really want it, we’re going to have to take turns,” said Theon, “or share.”

“Gods, will you two cut it out?” said Jon, stuffing his duffle under the twin. "Do you even hear yourselves right now?" 

“You sound like me,” Robb laughed. “Usually it’s the two of you arguing.”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Jon.

“Well, what do you mean, then?” Theon asked. He grinned as if he knew some joke that Robb didn't.

“I can’t be the only one who thinks this is….sort of weird, can I?” Jon spluttered.  “Never mind,” he sighed, falling back against his mattress. “I’m just…I don’t know.”

“What’s the matter?” said Robb.

“Lots of things,” Jon replied.

“Yeah, what happened between you and Ygritte earlier?” asked Theon. “I was going to ask you, but I was a little busy at the moment.”

“She pulled a knife on Joffrey’s friends this afternoon,” Jon said. He looked up at Theon and Robb, who both met his gaze blankly. “She had a _knife_ in her bloody pocket!”

“I’m glad she pulled her knife on them,” said Robb. In fact, he felt like calling Ygritte up at that very moment to thank her personally.

“You can’t be serious, Robb,” said Jon. “A knife!”

“Who knows what they would’ve done to Theon,” said Robb.

“Fine, even if they deserved it—” Jon began.

“They did,” said Robb.

“Will you let me finish?” Jon snapped.

Robb raised his hands in defense and sighed.

“Even if they deserved it, even if we were lucky that she had it, just the fact that she’s the sort of person who carries a knife around all day…I don’t know,” said Jon. “It threw me.”

“Oh, c’ome on, Jon,” said Theon. “Are you really that surprised?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jon asked, glowering.

“She’s from the slums,” said Theon. He grinned, the split in his lip widening. “And she’s savage.”

“Fuck off, Greyjoy,” said Jon.

“I just mean she’s tough,” Theon said, unperturbed. “She can take care of herself.”

Jon rolled over on his bed to face the wall.

“So are you two over, then?” Robb asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “We’re fighting though. I said some things to her that I’m not proud of.”

The three of them mulled in silence for awhile until Arya knocked on their door to announce that it was movie time.

The Starks all piled up on the couch to watch bits of old movies and sitcoms together in their pajamas. They snacked on stovetop popcorn and puppy chow that Sansa had made earlier that afternoon. Ned and Catelyn each allowed themselves several glasses of wine; it was nearing midnight when they decided that it was time to retire.

When they got back to their room, Robb, Jon, and Theon waited atop their covers until they thought the coast was clear.

“Ready?” Theon asked after several minutes of silence. The bedsprings above Robb creaked as he stirred.

“You guys might have to go without me,” Jon said as Theon climbed down from the top bunk. “I’m not up for it.”

“But it’s tradition, Snow,” Theon protested.

Jon rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Robb put in.

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t,” said Jon.

“Jon, please,” said Robb, “just come with us.”

“Pretty pretty please with spwinkles on top,” Theon added out, pushing out his lower lip.

“Fine,” Jon sighed. “Just for a bit.”

“Really?” said Theon, breaking from his imploring tone. “ _That_ got you?”

“Oh shut up, Greyjoy,” said Jon, sliding down from his bed.

The trio stalked through the house and crept out the back door and down the grassy slope to the lakeshore. The black lake glittered by the light of the stars, studded thick in the sky, and the moon hung high. The winds were heavy that night, and the waves they made slapped the sand with rhythmic cracks.

Theon stopped in his tracks.

“You can’t see across the lake, in this dark,” he said quietly.

Robb stopped and turned to him.

“With the south shore blurred and the waves this high,” Theon continued, “you could think for a minute that it was ocean.”

Robb looked out on the water and pretended, for a moment, that it was.

“You can tell it’s not, from the smell, but still,” Theon said.

“Do you miss it?” Robb asked.

“Every day,” said Theon.

“I’m sorry,” said Robb.

“For what?” Theon scoffed.

 _For the situation you had to go through. For how my family treats you sometimes,_ Robb could’ve said. _For how I treat you sometimes._

“I don’t know,” Robb said instead. “A lot of things.”

Theon shrugged, eyes fixed on the water ahead of him.

“Let’s strip,” he said, peeling off his shirt.

The other two boys followed suit. It was their ritual to go skinny dipping in the lake on the first night of every cabin visit, when it was warm enough.

Theon finished undressing first— gods, he was fast— and strode toward the lake. Robb tried not to look at Theon’s body when he followed him into the water. It felt wrong to corrupt their old tradition in that way. Besides, he didn’t want Jon to see him checking out Theon’s ass.

Robb’s skin crawled with goosebumps as he moved through the water. The lake was cold by night. He heard Jon splash in behind them. The boys moved, three pale shadows in the black night, to the end of the dock, where the water was chest height.

They swam for awhile, took turns taking jumps off the dock, treaded water and talked. Robb’s skin was all wrinkled and prune-like by the time Jon decided to head back to the cabin.

“Thanks for convincing me to come,” Jon said, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. “It made me feel a bit better. You don’t have to head up with me right away. I kind of want a minute to myself, if that’s alright.”

“Works for me, Snow,” Theon said, grinning. He hardly waited for Jon to disappear up the hillside before grabbing Robb and kissing him dead on the lips. Robb wrapped his legs around Theon’s torso, letting the water hold him up. Theon pushed off the muddy lake floor, dirt swirling up and kissing Robb’s ankles, so that they drifted to where their feet could no longer touch.

As they floated, lips locking, Robb’s heart pounded in his throat, in part from the heat of Theon’s kiss and the feel of his slippery hands running up and down his body, and in part from the fear of being that far out in the lake in the darkness, with no life jacket or flotation device. Robb wasn’t the best of swimmers, but he knew that Theon wouldn’t let him drown.

Robb was panting by the time they paddled back to shore. If the swim had taxed Theon at all, he showed no sign of it. Since Jon wasn’t around, Robb let himself watch Theon get dressed again, which, he decided, wasn’t nearly as good as watching him undress, but it was something.

After they dried off, Robb and Theon snuck back to their room, where Jon was still up, reading a book in his bed. Wordlessly, Theon climbed to the top bunk, and Robb reluctantly laid down on the bottom.

“Do you mind if I leave the lights on for a bit?” Jon asked. “I have two more pages.”

“Go ahead,” said Robb, settling down under his covers.

Robb was awake long after Jon killed the lights. No matter which way he tossed or turned, sleep couldn’t find him. It was too much to know that Theon was right there, in the bed above him, so close but so far away. Robb could hear the bed creak as Theon moved. He wanted to hear his heart beating, too, wanted to feel Theon’s skin against his own. They wouldn’t have to do anything. It would be enough to just lie next to him, to hold him.

With a creak of bedsprings Robb rose and climbed the ladder to the top bunk.

“Hey,” he whispered as he slid in by Theon’s side.

“Hey,” said Theon, turning and taking Robb into his arms. He pushed his nose against Robb’s neck and sighed.

Robb slept like a rock.

***

Robb was the last to wake up. When he climbed down from his bunk, Jon was sitting atop his bed, and Theon was crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a mug of coffee.

“Morning,” Theon said as Robb lowered himself to the floor. “Jon said he wanted to talk when you got up, but I told him I needed caffeine first.”

“What about?” Robb yawned, turning to Jon.

“I just think we need to make some things clear,” Jon said, “Set some ground rules, maybe.”

“Ground rules?” asked Robb. “What do you mean?”

“This morning I woke up and you two were in bed together,” said Jon.

“We didn’t do anything,” Robb said.

Jon sighed.

“I know,” he said. “Well, I hoped at least.”

“We didn’t,” said Theon.

“Good, and maybe I’m just being…I don’t know,” said Jon. “It was just a bit weird, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“So you’re saying we should give you a heads up any time we’re affectionate?” Theon asked. “Jon, I’m going to kiss Robb now, I hope that’s okay with you.” He grabbed Robb roughly by the cheeks and kissed him.

“That’s not what I’m…whatever,” Jon said as Theon released Robb’s face. “Just don’t fuck or anything while I’m trying to sleep.”

“Jon, I wouldn’t do that do you,” Robb said.

Theon was silent.

“Theon?” Robb asked, turning to him.

“What?” said Theon. “I thought you were speaking for the group.”

“Since when have you ever let me speak for you?” Robb asked. “And what’s ‘the group’?”

Theon shrugged.

“That’s the other thing,” Jon said, “what…are you two?”

Robb reddened, chewing at his lip.

“Jon, we really haven’t had that discussion,” Theon said.

“Oh,” said Jon. “Well, who knows?”

“That we…that we’re?” Robb asked, motioning awkwardly between himself and Theon.

“I haven’t told anyone,” said Theon.

“My mom knows that I’m…I came out to her on Monday,” said Robb.

“And who _can_ know?” Jon asked.

“No one,” Robb said quickly.

Theon turned to him. There was a question in his eyes, or accusation, maybe. Robb couldn’t meet his gaze for some reason. Instead, he studied the marbled veins of the wooden floor.

“Alright then,” said Jon. A small smile crept to his lips. “And so my watch begins.”

The Night’s Watch was an armed force stationed at the northern border of the country. Its members were comprised mostly of criminals and outcasts, and they served for life. Robb smiled at Jon’s joke, but he knew that Jon didn’t need to swear any oaths to keep secrets for him.

“I’m sorry if I’m being difficult at all, or short these past few days,” said Jon. “I have a lot going on right know and this,” he waved toward Robb and Theon, “is just an adjustment for me.”

A pang of guilt wracked through Robb. The hardest thing about a trio was that someone often got left out, and it was almost never Robb himself.

“I really don’t want this to affect our friendship,” Robb said.

“That’s a tall order,” Theon put in.

“I know,” Robb sighed. “But I want it to affect our friendship as little as possible. I don’t want it to hurt our friendship, I mean. And I don’t want you to feel left out, Jon.”

“If you’re trying to invite me to Top Bunk Cuddle Session tonight, just know I want no part in it,” said Jon.

The three of them laughed, and for a moment Robb stopped worrying if they were going to be okay.

“Well, at least now that Theon and I are…you know,” Robb said to Jon, still not knowing quite what to call his and Theon’s relationship, “you won’t have to share the title of my best friend anymore.”

“Hang on,” Theon said, his tone pointed. “Robb, if I don’t still get to be your best friend, then count me out of whatever we’re doing here.”

Robb turned to him, bemused.

“I thought—” he began.

“That we weren’t best friends anymore?” said Theon. “Being your friend has been one of the most important things in my life since I moved in with your family. I’m not going to lose that for makeouts in the lake if that’s what this means to you.”

“You two made out in the lake last night?” Jon said, thick eyebrows knitting together.

“Oh, grow up, Snow,” said Theon. “What did you expect when you left us there?”

Jon shook his head, massaging his forehead with his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” Robb said softly. He felt warm. He wanted to grab Theon right there and kiss him, but he held back, for Jon’s sake.

Sorted out, the three boys joined the family for breakfast. Ned was frying eggs and potatoes, and Catelyn was sipping coffee with Sansa at the dining room table next to Bran, who was nudging a piece of cold bacon around his plate. Rickon munched dry cereal, his stool pushed up to the kitchen island, and Arya was already in the yard.

It was a hot day for early September, as far north as they were. The family strolled together along the lakeshore and on their favorite path through the woods. Robb loved the west smell of the lake mingled with the rich scent of the pine. Arya had dirt caked up to her knees by the time they returned to the cabin.

Just before lunch, Theon led Robb, Jon, Arya, and Rickon, who refused to be left behind this time, to the spot in the woods where the Starks stored their archery set. Robb and Jon were good shots, and Arya’s skills were promising too, but nobody held a candle to Theon. He coached Arya for the better part of an hour, then took off his shirt to shoot for awhile himself.

Perhaps even more impressive than his impeccable aim was the speed with which Theon set shaft after shaft and loosed them. Robb couldn’t focus on his own archery, instead admiring the thin film of sweat that had begun to coat Theon’s skin, the hungry look that burned in his eyes when he loosed his arrows, the way this shoulder muscles tensed when he drew. The spot on his side had begun to bruise, blotches of purple, dark against his skin, that stretched when he moved. But if it hurt him when he drew, it didn’t seem to hinder his aim. If anything, the pain fueled him.

Eventually, the other four stopped practicing and just watched Theon. Arya and Rickon took turns yelling out spots on the target for Theon to hit, and he struck them with deadly precision until the targets were studded thick with grey goose feathers.

“Could you hit an apple off Robb’s head?” Rickon asked as they were gathering the shafts.

“Yeah,” said Theon, stuffing arrows into his quiver.

“Do it!” said Rickon.

Theon froze.

“I’m not going to do it,” he said.

“Why?” asked Arya. “Would you miss?”

Theon met Robb’s eyes.

“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss.”

“Then _do_ it,” said Rickon.

“I’m not going to do it,” Theon said. “And there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

“Would you do it for a million bucks?” Arya asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Theon. “You don’t have a million bucks.”

“But if I did,” said Arya.

“I’d try it on Snow, for sure,” said Theon.

“You’d try it on Jon but not Robb?” said Arya, a hint of indignation in her voice. She never understood why Jon and Theon didn’t get along sometimes and got angry when Theon made fun of him. “Why?”

“Just drop it, okay?” Theon pulled his shirt over his head and started off toward the cabin. The others scurried after him, but his pace was relentless.

The Starks ate lunch together and relaxed in the cabin while waiting for their stomachs to settle. Ned fell asleep on the couch, and the children piled pillows on top of him while he slept, laughing when he woke with a start and they all feel to the floor.

In the afternoon, they went out on the water. Jon and Theon took turns driving the jet ski since Robb technically was still supposed to refrain from operating vehicles. Rickon and Arya liked riding with Theon because he was wild, driving at the jet ski’s maximum speed, making crazy loops in the water, and flipping it over to throw his passengers off the side. It made Robb nervous, but everyone was wearing lifejackets, even Theon, who always took some convincing on that front. Sansa rode with Jon, because he promised not to dump her in the lake. While the others took their turns she stretched out on a floatie tied to the dock, sunning herself.

“Got enough sunscreen there, Sans?” Robb asked, draping his feet off the dock.

“I put some on this morning,” Sansa replied, not bothering to look his way.

“You should reapply,” Robb suggested. “You burn like crazy.”

Sansa ignored him, but just then Theon pulled the jetski up to the dock, making sure to give Sansa a good splash as he slowed to a halt. Sansa shrieked at him, and Arya laughed wildly from the back of the jet ski.

“Want a ride, Robb?” Theon asked as Arya climbed onto the dock. “I’ll go easy on you since you’re injured.”

Robb agreed and swung himself onto the jet ski, wrapping his arms around Theon’s waist to hold on. He’d written that very jet ski with Theon a hundred times before, but this time he let himself savor the tightness of Theon’s stomach and the wet smoothness of his skin without guilt.

“Ready?” Theon asked, turned his head back to meet Robb’s eyes, a grin sneaking to his lips.

“As ever,” Robb replied.

The engine wailed as they shot off down the lake, the gray-green water frothing in their wake. Robb laughed as they hurtled into a wide turn, lake water spraying up all around them like tiny diamonds. The rushing air blew his hair back, and he could feel Theon laugh against his clasped hands, but he couldn’t hear him over the wind and the engine. Theon followed the path of a nearby boat, the jet ski jouncing over the waves in its wake. Robb flew out of his seat a few times, clinging to Theon to stay on the jet ski, his stomach dropping. Theon took them in spirals until they both flew from the jet ski and into open air. Robb crashed below the waves, breathing in a lungful of lake water before resurfacing. Theon was bobbing a few feet away from him, grinning broadly.

“That was _easy_?” Robb coughed.

“I decided to step it up a notch,” Theon said. “You’re not _that_ injured anymore.”

After clambering back onto the jet ski, they rode back to the dock, where the others were laughing at them. Robb’s hair was a wet mop plastered to his face.

“I’m going to go inside and grab a drink,” Robb said as Jon and Arya boarded the jet ski. He watched them take off down the lake as he climbed the steps to the cabin. He wasn’t very thirsty, but he wanted to go check on Bran, who was watching TV in the living room. Robb squatted beside his chair.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” Bran replied, not peeling his gaze from the screen.

“Whatcha watching?” Robb asked.

“See for yourself,” said Bran.

Robb turned to glance at his mother at the dining room table. She met his eyes helplessly.

“Come outside with us, Bran,” Robb urged, turning back toward his little brother. “I’ll take you down by the lake.”

“Why would I want to go down there?” Bran snapped.

“To be outside instead of cooped up by the TV,” said Robb. “To be with us. It’s not as much fun without you.”

“It’s not as much fun when you can’t _do_ anything, either,” Bran said.

Before the accident, Bran had loved family trips to the cabin. He’d been a promising little archer and enjoyed water sports immensely, but most of all, he’d loved to scale the trees in the woods, climbing so high it had made Robb’s heart lurch.

“Bran—” Robb began.

“Just go away, Robb,” Bran snapped.

“Please—”

“Go away!”

Tentatively, Robb rose to his feet and toed out to the kitchen, passing his mother, who shot him a pained look on his way outside.

Halfway down the slope to the shoreline, Robb sunk to the ground and buried his head in his hands. He felt helpless, wracked with guilt. He wished he could make his little brother feel better, wished it had been him in the accident instead.

Wordlessly, Theon crouched beside him; Robb hadn’t even noticed him leaving the dock. Robb turned his head away from Theon, trying not to let him see the wetness that had begun to well in his eyes.

“I’m fine, I just…” Robb trailed off, sighing.

“Bran?” Theon asked.

Robb nodded.

“I wish there was something I could do for him,” he said.

“We can get him on the boat,” Theon said.

“We can,” said Robb. “But that’s not enough. He wants to swim and run and climb— all the things he can’t do anymore.”

“He can swim,” said Theon.

“Theon, he can’t use his legs,” Robb said flatly.

Theon shrugged.

“I supposed you don’t _need_ legs to ride the jet ski either,” he said.

“Seven hells, Theon, are you crazy?” Robb cried.

“I was just thinking—”

“Gods,” Robb said before Theon could finish, standing as Rickon raced toward them up the steps. He wanted Theon to drive him on the jet ski one last time before dinner. Robb watch them pick their way down the slope and to the dock, his misery ebbing.

After eating dinner together, the whole Stark family went outside. Bran had been convinced to move out onto the back porch, where Ned sat beside him and Sansa stretched herself on the hammock, reading an old favorite book. Robb didn’t understand quite why she reread her books so often. He wondered if she got something new out of them on every readthrough, or if their familiarity simply gave her comfort.

“And how’d it turn out this time?” Theon would ask her with a smirk when she neared the final pages of an old volume.

Sansa would roll her eyes without taking them from the page.

Robb, Jon, Theon, Arya, and Rickon all went out to fish. Catelyn sat with them on the dock, dangling her feet off the edge and kicking them gently through the water, letting the waves lap onto her legs.

The winds were still strong that day, so the fishing was hard. Of the children, Theon was the expert angler. Jon didn’t quite have the patience of a fisherman, a trait he shared with Arya, but at least she would let Theon coach her.

“You have to be careful casting like this, when the water’s choppy,” Theon said, watching as Arya swung the pole back.

“How should I crank the reel?” Arya asked, looking up at Theon after she’d cast her line out the way he taught her.

“Not too fast, but not too slow,” he told her.

“That’s not really much to go on, Greyjoy,” Jon remarked, having tossed his rod aside long before.

Theon turned to flash him a taunting grin before turning back to Arya.

“There,” he said. “That’s it. A little faster. Perfect.”

Seeming to judge Arya competent by herself, Theon approached Rickon, who’d been instructed to wait to cast until he had a coach beside him.

“Let me see,” Theon prompted him.

Rickon threw his rod back wildly, but Theon caught it in his hand before he could bring it forward.

“Woah woah woah,” Theon said, “you’re going to catch your sister if you cast like that!”

Robb thought that the rising glee in Rickon’s eyes may be cause for concern.

“Don’t encourage him,” Robb laughed.

Theon had caught four northern pikes before anyone else had gotten so much as a bite. Robb watched him, mesmerized as he cast his line out and drew it in, over and over again. It was a relentless motion, rhythmic almost, as if it were some sort of dance from which he never tired.

When Theon caught a fish he would pull it up from the water and wrench the hook from its mouth. Then, he’d take it over to the shore and smack its head against the stone steps that led up the hillside.

“It’s better this way,” he told Robb. “Some people tie them up to the dock and let them swim until they’re ready to clean the whole day’s haul, but that’s just cruel, I think. This is quicker.”

Theon laughed about it all, scaring Sansa with his second fish by stuffing it in her face as she crossed the shoreline to the dock, but Robb saw him hesitate each time before he struck his fish against the stone.

Theon sent Rickon to bring the fish up to Ned to clean for lunch the following day, and Catelyn took his place on the dock. She was a surprisingly adept fisherwoman, patient and lissome with the rod. She was a woman of the water, after all, having grown up in a prominent household along the river. Her casts rivaled Theon’s in distance and placement both, and she brought in three more fish before the evening was up. Robb had gotten one himself, and Rickon had caught one with Theon’s help casting and netting.

Arya hadn’t managed to reel one in yet, despite having a few bites. She was getting frustrated, Robb could tell. She went quiet, gnawing at her lip.

“Try to the right,” Theon suggested. “As far as you can throw it.”

Arya whipped the rod back, forcing Robb to duck. Theon’s snorted through his laughter, pulling his lips in and shaking his head. Robb held a finger to his mouth behind Arya’s back; he didn’t want to break her focus.

“That’s a fish,” Theon said to Arya as her lure landed in the water.

Robb thought Theon was just talking her up; he could hardly believe it when he saw Arya’s rod jerk in her hand.

“I’ve got one,” she cried, grinning ear to ear.

“Good, now keep reeling,” Theon said, scrambling to grab the net off the dock. “Steady, there you go. You got it.”

Arya’s fish was the biggest of the day, according to Theon’s eyeballed judgement, which Robb thought was dubious at best, though he refrained from admitting so. Theon winked at him as Arya trotted off toward the cabin to tell her father. Catelyn followed her up, and Jon cleared out a few moments later after giving the Stark matriarch some distance, clapping Robb on the shoulder as he went.

“You coming?” Robb asked Theon as the latter cast his lure out again.

“In a bit,” Theon said. “Go ahead, though. I want a minute out here myself.”

“It’s getting dark,” Robb said, bending to swat at a mosquito on his calf.

“I know,” Theon said. “This isn’t like fishing with a bobber; I don’t really need to see.”

“Alright,” Robb said, reluctant to peel himself from Theon’s side. “Just don’t go swimming by yourself.”

Theon grinned and rolled his eyes. On their previous cabin visits, Robb had caught Theon going for a swim in the lake at night or early in the morning. It always made him nervous.

“Theon, I’m serious,” said Robb. “It’s dangerous, no matter how good you are.”

“I won’t,” Theon said, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

“Promise?” said Robb.

“Promise.”

Robb left him there, casting his line out at the edge of the dock. Robb stopped halfway up the steps to watch Theon’s silhouette move against the night blue sky, turning to shadow in the gathering dusk.

Robb was already in bed by the time Theon returned. He waited on the top bunk, and Theon climbed up to join him, Jon snoring softly in the background.

“Hey,” Theon whispered as he settled in beside Robb.

Robb wrinkled his nose.

“You smell like fish,” he said.

“I can leave,” Theon said. He sat up, rustling from the covers.

“No,” Robb said, forgetting to whisper. He pulled Theon back to him and lowered his voice. “You smell like you.” 

Theon grinned, nestling against him. Robb shut his eyes and pretended they were on some ship together, gentle waves rocking them to sleep.

***

Theon was gone when Robb woke up, the sheets cold beside him. For a moment, Robb thought he’d slept in again, but when he peeked through the blinds he saw that it was still dark outside. His phone showed 4:30 am.

His heart hammered. Had Theon gone out swimming by himself? Had he hurt himself, or—Robb’s stomach knotted— drowned? _No, he’s probably in the bathroom,_ Robb told himself. He was overthinking. He needed to relax.

Robb sat awake in bed for a few minutes, studying the shadowed lines of the ceiling until he couldn’t take in any longer. He climbed down from the top bunk, sure to check the bed below him. He checked the bathroom in the hall too, the living room couch, the kitchen. Finally, he took the steps down to the lake, stumbling in the dark.

From the bottom step, Robb spotted a shadowy figure standing in the shallows, right beside the dock. He trotted to the edge of the water, heart in his throat.

It took Robb a moment to piece together what was happening before him. Theon stood in the water, staring down at something— at someone— at _Bran,_ who, Robb realized with horror, was floating on his back.

“What are you doing?” Robb cried, splashing into the lake.

Theon looked up at him, eyes glowing blue-white in the predawn darkness. Bran thrashed upright in the water, gripping the dock for support.

“Theon’s teaching me to swim,” Bran said.

Robb floundered through the water to his little brother before rounding on Theon.

“Have you lost your mind?” Robb bellowed.

“I was just trying to help,” said Theon.

“Help?” Robb echoed, aghast. “By risking Bran’s life?”

“Robb, we’re hardly in the water,” said Theon.

“At this time of night? _Alone?_ ” said Robb. “What if something had happened to you? What if he—”

“I had everything under control,” Theon cut in. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, you know that.”

“What part of this seems safe to you?” Robb snapped.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Theon said, his voice rising. “I thought you wanted him to have fun and learn to live outside of his—”

“You went behind my back and—”

“I asked him to bring me,” Bran put in, cutting Robb off. “I asked him to.”

“He can’t, Theon!” Robb cried.

“You don’t know—” Theon began.

“He just _can’t_!”  

A dreadful silence fell over the lake then, like the light of the silver moon, cut only by the cicadas' croon.

“We need to go back inside,” Robb said quietly. He scooped Bran up by his underarms.

“Let me go!” Bran cried, trying to wriggle free.

“Here, let me—” Theon said, stepping forward.

“I can’t believe you,” Robb said, turning to Theon. “I can’t believe you’d put my brother in danger.”

Something in Theon’s face changed then.

“ _Your_ brother?” he said, lip curling.

Bran went limp, ceasing his struggle against Robb’s grip, watching the boys above him with wide eyes.

“Theon,” Robb began, shame welling up inside of him.

Theon ignored him, trudging ahead to the shore. Robb followed him as he made for the woods, carrying Bran in his arms.

“Theon, don’t,” he said.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just going to go for a little walk,” Theon said. “Why don’t you go join your family in the cabin?”

Robb stopped in his tracks, arms burning from carrying his brother up the hill. He watched Theon disappear into the woods, his shadow melting into the darkness around him.

“Are you going to go after him?” Bran asked.

“No, he’ll be back soon,” Robb said, a lump rising in his throat.

He had to get his brother inside, then he could worry about Theon. Bran refused to talk to him on the walk back to his room. Robb made sure not to wake Rickon as he laid Bran back down in bed. Then, he crept back to his own room, figuring the best thing to do was wait. It would be near impossible to find Theon in the woods if he didn’t want to be found.

Robb couldn’t go back to sleep. He waited for the door to creak, for Theon to pad back into the room and climb up to his bed. Every little sound Robb heard made him jump, from Jon turning over in his sleep to the frog songs outside his window.

The light came before Theon did. When he heard the others get up, Robb went out to the dining room, sick with worry. His stomach did a somersault when he spotted Theon at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee beside Sansa.

Robb took his own seat at the dining room table, careful to give Theon his space. He could hardly touch his hash browns, though they looked delicious— peppered, greasy, and steaming.

Theon helped Arya and Rickon fish some more after breakfast; he even got Sansa to throw a few casts. They added a few more northerns to the haul from the night before to supplement the lunch that Ned was preparing up in the cabin. Theon walked right by Robb a few times, showing no sign of resentment other than his refusal to meet Robb’s eyes. Robb felt a pang every time he passed, but he thought it best to give Theon time to come around on his own. Apologies often made the Greyjoy boy uncomfortable and upset. Still, Robb felt that he owned Theon one.

Ned’s fish fry was delectable, but Robb struggled to enjoy it, stealing glances at Theon from across the table. Theon sat between Bran and Sansa, smiling, as ever.

After lunch, the whole family went for a lap around the lake on the pontoon— even Bran, who looked longingly out at the lake from his chair. The children took turns tubing behind the boat, Sansa screaming when she lost her grip, Theon and Jon pushing each other into the lake at every turn.

As evening neared, the Starks lingered by the lakeside, loath to end their time outdoors. Robb sat with his feet draped over the lip of the dock, watching the others swim. From afar, he admired Theon as he swam, lean and lithe in the water. Robb watched him as he pulled himself through the gentle waves, away from the group, stroking languidly on his back. There was a certain peace about Theon when he was in the water; Robb didn’t quite know how to describe it. It was mesmerizing.

Robb plunged in after him, splashing unceremoniously into the murky water by the dockside, thick with weeds. He fixed his eyes on Theon, determined to reach him, to get him alone. Robb huffed as he swam, trying different combinations of kicks and strokes, all of which seemed hopelessly inefficient to him. He didn’t know how Theon make it look so effortless.

Robb was panting by the time he paddled up to Theon, who was floating on his back with his eyes closed until he noticed Robb beside him.

“Gods, Robb, did you follow me all the way out here?” Theon exclaimed, twisting upright in the water.

Robb nodded, too winded to speak. He turned to look back at the cabin, a small brown smudge on the shoreline. He _had_ swum a long way. For the first time since leaving the dock, fear coursed through him. The lake had to be thirty feet deep where they treaded.

“I had to apologize to you,” Robb said breathlessly.

“Here?” said Theon. He sounded angry. “Robb, you could’ve drowned.”

“I don’t care,” said Robb. “I’ll drown, I don’t care. I have to apologize to you.”

Theon’s gaze fell away from his. The Greyjoy boy glanced to the opposite shoreline, then back to Robb.

“I’m not going to let you drown,” he said.

Robb wanted to let his limbs go heavy, wanted to see if he’d just float there, or if he’d sink, if Theon would keep his promise. But something inside of Robb— something deeper than all his fear and doubt and worry— knew that Theon would, no matter how far the shoreline, how rough the waters.

“I’m sorry for how I acted last night,” Robb said. “I wasn’t fair to you. Or to Bran.”

He watched Theon’s jaw tighten and his eyes flit away.

“I was just scared, T,” Robb said, chewing at his lip.

The two boys floated in silence for a few minutes, not meeting each other’s gaze. Robb watched the sunset paint pink hues onto the mirror surface of the lake, felt the dying light of the sun against his wet brow.

“Theon, you’re a part of this family as much as anyone else,” he said, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Strangely, something softened in Theon’s eyes then.

“Robb, we both know that’s bullshit,” he said, half-smiling, as if he were telling some old joke that had lost its luster.

"You  _are_ ," Robb insisted.

“Not to your parents,” Theon said, “Not to Jon.”

“You are to me,” said Robb.

Theon looked away from him.  

“Doesn’t that count for something?” Robb asked. He waited for Theon to reply for what felt like hours.

“Let’s head back,” Theon said finally. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Robb felt slower on the swim back to the cabin than on the way out. Theon switched off swimming in front of and behind him, never speaking to him but never straying too far.

“Where were you two?” Sansa asked when they made it back to the dock. “Mom was getting worried.”

Robb watched the muscles in Theon’s arms and core strain as he pulled himself atop the dock, but if it taxed him at all, his tone didn’t betray him.

“Out,” Theon said simply.

Robb watched Theon shake out the water from his hair and stride off down the dock toward the cabin as he gasped from the water below.

After heading back inside, Robb showered, trying to clear his head. He then changed into his pajamas and joined the others in the living room to watch TV, stuffing himself on the couch between Jon and Rickon.

When he thought no one was looking, Robb turned to study Theon’s face. His blue-green eyes were glassy and impassive, fixed on the screen ahead of him. Robb wanted Theon to look over at him, even once, even if he were just taunting him.

Exhausted from the day’s adventures, the Stark family retired early that night. Robb slipped into his bed, bone-tired, but knowing— numbly almost— that sleep would elude him.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open and shut, and Theon crawled into bed beside him, shimmying beneath the covers and wrapping an arm around Robb.

A sudden warmth spread through Robb’s body. He grinned, taking one of Theon’s hands in his own and kissing it softly.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he said, turning to face Theon, whose eyes were drooping as his head rested against the pillow.

“I still am, Stark,” Theon said groggily. He pulled Robb closer to him. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

 


End file.
